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JAMES BALDWIN
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Story of Roland
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THE STORY OF ROLAND
BY JAMES BALDWIN
THE SAMPO
A STORY OF THE GOLDEN AGI
THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED
THE STORY OF ROLAND
HERO TALES TOLD IN SCHOOL
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
THE ACCOLADE.
HEROES OF THE OLDEN TIME
THE
STORY OF ROLAND
BV
JAMES BALDWIN
Illustrated by T(. T$. Ttircb
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NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
COPYRIGHT, 1883, 1888, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY
JAMES BALDWIN
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced in any form without
the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons
FUcLIC LJPRARYI
Ai
j.'LDEN f OuNu
I*.
THE FORE WORD.
THE fairyland of romance is not far removed from
the more sober domains of history. Indeed, the ter-
ritory of the one sometimes overlaps that of the other ;
and the boundary line between them is often dim and
ill-defined. This truth is illustrated in the legends
which have come down to us from the middle ages.
In those rude, uncultured times, men did not care
greatly to sift fact from fiction, nor to pry into the
likelihood of things. No matter how improbable a
atory might be, if it were pleasing to them, they
never thought of questioning its truth. Most of the
earlier legends began in song : they were sung or re-
cited by wandering bards or minstrels long before they
were written down. They have in them usually some
slender thread of real history, so covered over with
traditions, and mixed up with mysteries and marvels,
Mi
B
The Fare Word.
that it is impossible to know how much is fact, and
how much is fable. We read them chiefly to learn how
the men of those far-off cloudy days thought and felt,
what they believed, and with what kind of literature
they were entertained Yet if we remove the dross
and impurities which obscure the fairer and nobler
parts of these legends, and adapt them to our own
modes of thinking and expression, we shall not fail
to find some things that will instruct, and many that
will please.
Jean Bodel, a minstrel of the thirteenth century,
wrote, "There are but three subjects which interest
men, — the tales of France, of Britain, and of Rome
the great; and to these subjects there is nothing
like. The tales of Britain l are so light and pleas-
ant ; those of Rome * are wise and of teachful sense ;
those of France* truly every day of greater appear-
ance,"
In this story of Roland as I propose telling it, I
shall introduce you to some of the most pleasing of
those M tales of France." The poems and legends
which embody them were written in various languages,
1 The romances of King Arthur. 2 The Gesta Romanorum.
8 The legends of Charlemagne.
The Fore Word.
and at widely different times ; but in them two names*
Charlemagne and Roland, are of very frequent occur-
rence. Charlemagne, as you know, was a real histori-
cal personage, the greatest monarch of mediaeval times,
His empire included France, the greater part of Gear-
many, and Italy ; and his power and influence were felt
all over the Christian world. The fame of his achieve-
ments in war was heralded and sung in every country
of Europe ; his name was in the mouth of every story-
teller and wandering bard ; and it finally became cus-
tomary to ascribe all the heroic deeds and wonderful
events of three centuries to the time of Charlemagne.
The songs and stories in which these events were
related were dressed up with every kind of embellish-
ment to suit the circumstances of their recital. Wild
myths of the Pagan ages, legends and traditions of the
Christian Church, superstitious notions of magic and
witchcraft, fantastic stories derived from the Arabs
of Spain and the East, — all these were blended in
one strange mass, and grafted upon a slender core of
historical truth. The result was a curious mixture
of fact and fiction, of the real and the marvellous, of
the beautiful and the impure, of Christian devotion
and heathen superstition. And it was thus that " the
vf The Fore Ward.
tales of France," which we may term the legendary
history of Charlemagne, came into being.
The Charlemagne of romance is a very different per-
sonage from the Charlemagne of history ; and the tales
which cluster around the name of that monarch must
not be regarded as true pictures of life and manners
during his reign, but rather as illustrations of the state
of society at the various times of their composition.
In the romances, Charlemagne is represented as the
patron of chivalry, and his warriors as possessing all
the knightly virtues. But we know, that, in his time,
the institution of chivalry did not exist, and that there
were no knights. In the tenth century, however, when
men first began to write down the tales of France,
chivalry was in its prime ; and it was but natural that
the poet who wrote and sang for feudal chiefs and
lords should invest his heroes with knighthood, and
represent Charlemagne as the founder of the order.
Roland, the nephew of the Charlemagne of romance,
and his companion in all great enterprises, is unknown
to history. Yet he is the typical knight, the greatest
hero of the middle ages. His story, as I shall tell it
you, is not a mere transcript of the old romances. The
main incidents have been derived from a great variety
The Fore Word. vll
of sources, while the arrangement and the connecting
parts are of my own invention. I have culled the story
from the song-writers and poets of five centuries and
of as many languages. Sometimes I have adhered
closely to the matter and spirit, and even the words,
of the originals ; sometimes I have given free rein to
my own imagination ; and throughout I have endeav-
ored so to arrange and retouch the individual parts of
the story as to lend interest to its recital, and adapt it
to our own ways of thinking, and our modern notions
of propriety. The oldest story of Roland was doubt-
less that which was sung by the minstrel of William the
Conqueror, in 1066. Wace, in his account of the battle
of Hastings, says, " Taillefer, who sang very well, rode
before the duke, singing of Charlemagne and of Roland
and of Oliver, and of the vassals who died at Ronce-
vaux." The song which Taillefer sang must have been
the " Chanson de Roland," written by one Turold, per-
haps as early as the tenth century. It is by far the
finest of all the " tales of France." More than twenty
years after the battle of Hastings, there appeared a
Latin work, entitled "The Life of Charles the Great
and of Roland," which, it was claimed, had been written
by Archbishop Turpin, the father -confessor of Charle
vSil The Fore Word.
magne. The falsity of this claim is too apparent tc
need any proof ; and yet the work, having been sanc-
tioned by Pope Calixtus, and placed by him upon the
roll of canonical books, exerted no small influence over
the poetical literature which followed it, and supplied
materials and suggestions to many later romancists.
In England, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
there appeared several rhyming romances relating to
our hero. Among these were "Sir Ferumbras," an
adaptation of a French poem, entitled "Fierabras,"
" Otuel," and " Roland and Ferragus." One of the
first books printed in our language was a legendary
history of Charlemagne, entitled "The Lyf of Charles
the Great, fynysshed in the reducing of it into Eng-
lysshe the xviii day of Juin MCCCCLXXXV. Ex-
plicit per William Caxton." In our own time Mr.
Jehn Malcolm Ludlow, in his "Popular Epics of the
Middle Ages," has given us a valuable critical analysis
f»f some of the most noticeable legends of Roland and
Charlemagne, In Germany we find an adaptation oi
the "Chanson de Roland" in an old poem, entitled
" Ruolandes Liet," which appeared, probably, as early as
1177, and has recently been edited by William Grimm
Karl Simrock's " Kerlingisches Heldenbuch " contains
tore Word. be
some of the most delightful traditions of Roland and
Charlemagne; and the " Kaiserchronik," published in
1849, gives a complete legendary history of Charle-
magne and his peers from a German point of view.
In Italy the story of Roland was long a most fertile
and attractive theme, and gave rise to more than one
great poem. The legends relating to his parentage
and boyhood are contained in the " Innamoramento dl
Milone d'Anglante," printed in the sixteenth century,
and in several other poems much older ; the " Orlando
Innamorato " of Boiardo tells us of the marvellous ad-
ventures of our hero in Fairyland and in the Far East ;
the " Orlando Furioso " of Ariosto tells of his prowess
as a knight, his disappointment in love, his madness
and ultimate recovery ; the " Morgan te Maggiore " of
Pulci relates the story of his later adventures and his
death. In the mediaeval romances of Spain the name
of Roland is of frequent occurrence ; and the story,
modified to suit the prejudices of Spanish readers, is
found in numerous old songs and poems, some of them
as early as the twelfth century. There is, in short,
no country in Europe, and no language, in which the
exploits of Charlemagne and of Roland have not at
some time been recounted and sung.
The Fore Word.
In relating the story of Roland it would, of course, be
impossible to avoid some mention of Oliver and Rein-
old, and Ogier the Dane, — heroes who were his com-
panions in arms, and who rivalled him in the number
and greatness of their exploits. I have therefore been
at some pains to give, from the same ancient sources,
the most popular and pleasing legends concerning these
valorous knights, one of whom, at least, can lay claim
to an historical existence.
The old bards and story-tellers who invented, embel-
lished, and sang these famous " tales of France," were
accustomed to modify, recast, and remodel their stories
so as to adapt them to the tastes and demands of their
audiences. In presenting the story of Roland for the
first time in a connected form and to a popular audi-
ence, I shall certainly be pardoned if I endeavor tt fol
low their example.
CONTENTS.
THE FORE WORD
FAGS
• ••
111
ADVENTURE
I. ROLAND AND OLIVER . .
II. THE KING'S GUEST ....
III. THE WAR WITH THE SAXONS
IV. THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN .
V. OGIER THE DANE
VI. How THE ARMY CROSSED THE ALPS
VII. KNIGHTED ON THE BATTLEFIELD
VIII. How OGIER WON SWORD AND HORSE
IX. ROLAND'S ARMS
X. A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER . .
XI. REINOLD OF MONTALBAN . . .
XIL MALAGIS THE WIZARD
XIII. THE PRINCESS OF CATHAY .
XIV. IN THE WOOD OF ARDENNES .
XV. ROLAND'S QUEST IN THE FAR EAST .
XVL How REINOLD FARED TO CATHAY .
XVII. IN THE GARDENS OF FALERINA .
XVIII. MORGAN THE FAY ....
XIX. How OGIER REFUSED A KINGDOM
XX. How ROLAND SLEW A SEA MONSTER
XXI. How ROLAND FELL INTO PRISON
i
18
34
42
47
57
70
81
97
114
133
149
175
192
199
211
218
232
240
245
255
XI
Contents.
ABYBNTUKK
FftCS
XXII.
BRADAMANT THE WARRIOR MAIDEN ....
266
XXIIL
THE WINGED HORSE OF THE PYREKKKS . ,
285
XXIV.
How ROLAND LOST HIS HELMET . • . «
^94
XXV.
THE BATTLE . • « ,
399
XXVL
MEDORO THE MOOR
J06
XXVII.
A CONTEST FOR DURAMDAL .
3*7
XXVIII.
How ROLAND BECAME HIS OWN SHADOW . . .
3*9
XXIX.
A FLIGHT TO THE LAND OF PRESTERJOHN .
344
XXX.
How THE PEERS RETURNED TO FRANCE
361
XXXI.
How CHARLEMAGNE FOUGHT AGAINST OGOKR .
365
XXXII.
THE VALE OF THORNS »..«••.
383
THE AFTER WORD
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS,
From ttr&wings by R* 3, Birth,
ACCOLADE
ROLAND AND OLIVKR ON THE HnxiCDS .
T&E WHITE STAG .
**A ROLAND FOR AN
TKB FOUNTAIN OF MEHUS?
t*KE COMBAT AT MIDNIGHT
Iw THE DRAGON'S DEM .
THE GASDKNS OF FALKBIHJ
BRADAMANT AND PINAB.KL
CLORIDAN AND MSDORO.
ROLAND'S
THE BRIDGE OF
THE HARPIES
t -3 • •
» I a •
re*
I • t • •
!••:•*
• ; »
» • • • •
• a • * •
a • • •
9*4
THE DEATH OF ROLAND
AJ»D THE Ho&SS
Froatbpiet*,
Tb/a&e pagg 4
«. 4 fi « V
• • • • •
» < »
1-
197
« « sio
e a
* 308
" " 335
« 343
« " 3S3
• * 376
* * 399
RQLAN1
ADVENTURE L
ROLAND AND OLIVER.
summer afternoon rather more than eleven hun-
years ago, the boy Roland was sitting in the cleft
of a broken rock that forms the crest of one of the hills
in the neighborhood of Sutri. Above him was the deep
blue sky of Italy, unflecked by any cloud : on either
side of him stretched a dull, uneven plain, broken here
and there by wet marshes, and long lines of low hills.
A mila or more to the south, and partly hidden behind
the br®w of the hill, ^ould be seen the old town, with
its strong castle, and its half-ruined amphitheatre, and
its white-walled monastery. Directly beneath him was
the dusty highroad, which, after winding among the
straggling vineyards and the little farms that dotted the
plain, was lost to sight in a strip of dusky woodland
a league and more to the northward. Along that road
King Charlemagne, with the flower of his great army,
was hourly expected to pass, marching on his way to
the castle of Sutri, where he was to be entertained for
a time as a guest ; &nd it was for this reason that th«s
The Story of Roland.
lad sat so still, and watched so long, in his half-hiddea
perch on the hilltop.
Every thing, as if awed by the near coming of
the hero king, seemed strangely still that afternoon.
Scarcely a sign of life was to be seen ; and the places
which at other times had been noisy with busy work-
ers were now silent and deserted. The reapers, who
yesterday had made the wheat-fields ring with their gay
jests and their rude songs, had left their sickles in the
fields, and stolen silently away. The young girls who
had been gleaning the fallen grain, and whose laughter
had awakened the echoes among the hills, were nowhere
to be seen to-day, although the eagle eyes of Roland
sought them on every hand. Along the highroad,
which at other times seemed alive with the busy folk
coming and going between Sutri and Viterbo, neither
man, woman, nor beast was stirring. But off toward
Sutri the boy could see that things were quite differ-
ent. The town seemed to be decked in holiday attire :
the governor's castle was draped with gay bunting, and
flags and banners floated from the turret-tops. Com-
panies of knights dressed in rich livery rode hither ami
thither, impatiently waiting the word from the watch-
man above the gates to go out and meet the kingly
guest. The streets were crowded with hurrying, eager
folk, who knew not whether to hail the coming of Char-
lemagne and his host as a blessing, or to look upon it as
a calamity.
Now and then the sound of voices from the towo.
Roland and Oliver. 3
or the cries of the soldiers in the garrison, came to
Roland's ears ; and anon he heard the monks in the
monastery drowsily chanting their prayers. And there
he sat, waiting and wondering, and anxiously watching
for any sign of the coming host. The fair face of the
lad, and the long flaxen hair which fell in glistening
waves upon his bare shoulders, showed his kinship to
the hardy races of the North. And there was some-
thing in the piercing look of his eye, in the proud curl
of his lip, in the haughty turn of his head, which made
him seem like a young king among men, and which
often had caused those who met him to doff the hat in
humble courtesy. He was very poorly clad : his head
and limbs were bare ; and the thin, scant clothing which
covered his body was nought but rags and shreds. Yet
he bore himself proudly, as one who knew his own
worth, and who, having a blameless heart, had nothing
of which to feel ashamed.
And now the sun began to slope toward the west ;
and, with each moment that passed, the lad's eagerness
seemed to grow greater. By and by another boy came
over the crest of the hill, and stood in the cleft of the
rock by the side of Roland, and with him gazed down
the deserted road. He seemed to be of about the same
age as Roland, and, like him, was tall and sparely built.
His dark hair and overhanging brows, his ruddy face
and flashing eyes, betokened an equal kinship with the
danger-daring North-folk and the leisure-loying people
of the South. He wore the rich dress of a court page.
The Story of Roland.
and carried himself with a lofty grace such as only
those who bear brave hearts can ever show.
" I feared you were not coming, Oliver," said Roland
offering his hand, but not once turning his head, 01
taking his eyes from the distant woodland.
" It was indeed hard for me to get leave/' answered
the other. " But the ladies at the castle are very kind,
and here I am ; and I mean to be, with you, the first to
see the great king and his valiant knights. Yet he is
late."
"I think I see them coming now," said Roland.
" There is a glimmering of light among the trees, which
I think must be the flashing of the sun upon their
armor. And it grows brighter, and seems to come
nearer.'
He had scarcely finished speaking, when the clear
notes of a bugle were heard, borne faintly to them on
the breeze. And soon they heard a sound like the dis-
tant dashing of waves against the seashcre, the rustling
of myriads of dry leaves in the autumn woods, the faint
rumbling of a far-away storm cloud. They knew that
it was nought but the noise made by the trampling of
many feet, the heavy tread of war-horses, the rattling
ol arms and armor. Then a great cloud of dust was
seen rising like a mist above the treetops ; and the rain-
bow-hued banners of the coming host hove in sight.
Presently the edge of the wood seemed ablaze with
flashing shields and glittering war coats. The boy
Roland leaped to his feet. He stood on tiptoe, and
ROLAND AND OLIVER ON THE HILLSIDE.
Roland and Oliver.
strained himself eagerly forward ; his face beamed
with delight ; and his eyes sparkled with that strange
wild fire which in after-days, in the midst of the battle's
din, was wont to strike his foes with terror. Oliver
climbed to the highest point of the rock, and gazed
with an eagerness half mixed with fear, at the wonder
ml array of steel-clad warriors, who now could be plainly
seen issuing from the woodland. Like a torrent of roll-
ing, flashing waters, the host of Charlemagne came
moving along the line of the highway, and spreading
across the plain. They came not, however, in all the
array of battle, nor with their terrible engines of war,
nor, indeed, as enemies bent on pillage, or seeking
revenge ; but they came, rather, as an army of peace,
with music sounding, and banners flying, and words
of good-will and friendship to all. For Charlemagne,
having left off fighting with the Lombards, was on his
way to Rome, with the best and bravest of his warri-
ors, to receive the homage and the blessing of the
Pope,
The vanguard of the procession drew rapidly nearer.
In front rode four and twenty knights, the heralds of
the king, bearing aloft the silken banner of France and
the golden eagle of Rome. They were clad in rich
armor, which glittered like gold in the sunlight ; their
shields were inlaid with many priceless gems, and pol-
ished as bright as mirrors ; and the sharp points of
their long lances flashed around them, like the restless
gleams of lightning in the van of a summer storm-cloud
Ihe Story of Koiand.
They were mounted on milk-white horses trapped with
white cloth-of-gold, with gold-red saddles, and housings
of bluest silk.
The boy Roland had never seen any thing so beau*
tiful or so grand, and he thought that one of thesa
knights must surely be Charlemagne. And as they
drew very near to the foot of the hill, and he could
look down almost upon the heads of the brilliant com-
pany, he called to Oliver, and asked, —
" Which of these knights is the great Charles ? Is
it not he who rides nearest the standard-bearer ? He,
surely, is the noblest warrior of them all ; and he rides
with a grace which well becomes a king."
But this scene, which filled the mind of Roland with
such astonishment, was not altogether new to Oliver
Not many months before, his father, the governor of
Sutri, had taken him on a visit to the court of Charle-
magne ; and there he had witnessed the splendor of the
king's surroundings, and had heard of the fearful might
of his warriors.
" No," he answered. " The great king is not one of
these. They are but heralds and messengers, who ride
before to my father's castle to see that every thing is
in readiness for their master. They are right courtly
fellows, I ween, fair of speech, and comely of form ; but
I doubt if any of them would be ranked among his
bravest knights."
Following the heralds came a body of guards, — a
thousand men of giant stature, and muscles of iron, —
Roland and Oliver.
incajed from head to foot in strongest armor, and riding
heavy war-steeds trapped with steel. After these came
a long line of bishops and abbots and monks and priests,
most of them dressed in the garb of their office or pro
fession, and riding on the backs of palfreys or of mules
" See you the tall bishop, dressed partly in armor, and
carrying a crucifix in one hand, while with the other he
toys with his sword-hilt ? ' asked Oliver. " That is the
brave Turpin, one of the peers of Charlemagne. He is
at home in the battlefield as well as before the altar,
and many an unbelieving Pagan has felt the thrust of
his lance. But see ! here comes the king himself ! '
The whole highway and the fields before them now
seemed filled with steel-coated men, and horses clothed
in steel trappings ; and the long lances in the hands of
the knights seemed as thick-set as the blades of grass
in an autumn meadow. Everywhere were seen the
gleam of polished steel and the waving of gay plumes
and many-colored pennons ; and here and there were
banners, of varied shapes and every hue, on which were
emblazoned mottoes, and the strange devices of the war-
riors who bore them. First and foremost in this com-
pany was Charlemagne himself, clad in steel from head
io foot, and riding a horse of the color of steel and the
strength of steel. Roland, as soon as he saw him, knew
that this must be the king ; for there was no other man
who seemed so kingly, or who bore himself with so
lordly a grace. The noblest knight among his followers
seemed but a weak stripling when seen by the side of
8 The Story of Roland.
the matchless Charlemagne. In his left hand he carried
a lance of steel of wondrous length, while his right
hand held the reins of his fiery steed. His head was
bare, for he had laid aside his helmet ; and his long hair
fell in waves upon his steel-covered shoulders. His
broad shield, which was carried by an attendant knight,
was of plated steel of three thicknesses bound together
with iron bolts. His thighs were encircled with plates
of steel, and his hands were garnished with steel gaunt-
lets. On his kingly face a smile lingered ; and from his
gleaming gray eyes sparks of fire seemed to shoot ; and
under a weight of armor which would have borne down
a common man he carried himself erect and proud, like
one who was every inch a king.1
With wonder, rather than with awe, Roland kept his
eyes fixed upon the noble figure of Charlemagne ; and
he did not withdraw his gaze until a sudden turn of the
road around the hill toward Sutri hid the steel-clad
company from his sight. He did not care to see that
part of the host which followed. He had no thought
for the throng of squires and pages, and the crowd of
common soldiers and grooms, who brought up the rear
with the baggage and the camp equipage and the led
horses of the knights. He had seen the great Charles,
and that was afl he wished. He beckoned to Oliver ;
and the two boys climbed down from their well-hidden
lookout, and started homeward.
To keep out of the way of the soldiery, and to shun
1 See Note t at the end of this relume.
Roland and Oliver.
other hinderances, they followed a narrow pathway
which led them over the hill, and down the slope on the
other side from that where the highway ran. Not a
word did either speak until they reached the level fields \
but here they paused, for here they must needs part
The path which Oliver was to take led southward to the
lordly castle of Sutri, where, that night and the follow-
ing day, Charlemagne and his warriors were to rest and
be entertained. But Roland's way lay across the lonely
fields to a far different dwelling among the barren hills.
Before they parted, each took the other's hand ; and both
stood for some time in silence, their hearts full of
thoughts too big to find utterance in speech. Roland
spoke first
"Some day, Oliver," said he, "we, too, shall be
knights, and we shall ride with Charlemagne and his
peers as proud as the proudest warriors we have seen
to-day."
"Yes," answered Oliver, his face beaming with
delight. " And boldly will we fare over land and sea,
fighting the Pagan folk, and doing worthy deeds for the
honor of God, the king, and the ladies."
" My mother has often told me," said Roland, " that
the day when I should first see Charlemagne would be
to me the beginning of a new life. I know not why
she said it ; but I have seen the great king, and I feel
that a wonderful change has come to me, and that I
shall no longer be a mere beggar boy. I must soon be
up and away, doing my part in this busy world. Let
io The Story of Roland,
as now, like real knights, pledge ourselves as brothers
in-arms. Next to my mother, you are my dearest friend
Let me call you my brother."
"You are indeed my brother, Roland," answer ei
Oliver earnestly. "You are my brother. Don't yo^
remember, that, since the day when you gave me such
a well-deserved drubbing for laughing at your ragged
clothing, we have been sworn brothers-in-arms ? D*d
any one ever apologize for a fault more heartily thac I
did then ? And did any one ever forgive with fre^i
grace than you forgave me ? And have any two per-
sons ever loved with a truer love than that which bin4s
us together ? '
"But we are only boys," said Roland. "You are ?
page and a prince. I am a beggar and a prince : «.'
least so I have been told in my dreams. The next tiiw
we meet, we may both be knights. Let us pledge out
selves, that, let that meeting be when it may, it shall **,•
a meeting between brothers-in-arms."
Without more words, the two boys, still holding ear b
other's hands, knelt together by the roadside. AM!
they vowed to be true to each other so long as li^a
should last ; to share together whatever fortune migh!
betide, whether it should be good or ill ; to meet aai
dangers together, and to undertake all great enterprises
in company; to rejoice together in success, and
together when sorrow should come ; to devote their 11
to the succor of the helpless and to the defence of the
; and, if need be, to die for each other.
Roland and Oliver. \\
"And now," said Oliver, as they rose to their feet5
" let us, like true knights, seal our vow of brotherhood
by exchanging tokens."
And with the word he took from his girdle a little
daggei with long gleaming blade and a handle of ivory
richly carved, and inlaid with gold. It was a gift frorc
his grandfather, Gerard of Viana, and had once belonged
to the Pagan king of Morocco. It was the dearest of
Oliver's possessions, and hence the fittest token to
present to his brother-in-arms. As Roland took it
from his hand, and gazed with pleased eyes upon its
razor edges, gleaming like lines of silver light, tears
stood in his eyes, for he knew how highly its owner
prized it. Then from the folds of his ragged garment
he drew the short, broken fragment of an old sword-
blade, dimmed with age and much rust, and dull with
many notches.
"My token," said he, "is but a poor return for the
beautiful keepsake you have given me. But it is very
dear to me, and I know that it will also be dear to you.
It is all that was left of my father's sword, when,
hemmed in by Pagan foes, he sold his life dearly in
fight, and died for the honor of the king and the
church."
Oliver took the proffered token reverently, for he
already knew its story. He gazed a moment at the
curious letters carved on its sides, and at its hacked
and battered edge ; and then he placed it carefully in
his girdle. And the two boys, after many earnest words
12 The Story of Roland.
and many kind good-bys, turned away, and each has-
tened toward his own home.
By this time the sun had gene down, and the short
twilight was fast giving place to darkness. With hasty
steps Roland made his way across the fields toward the
low line of yellow hills, which now could be scarcely
seen, lying more than a league away, dimly outlined
against the western horizon. It was quite dark long
before he reached them. But he knew the way well,
and a light shining in the door of his mother's dwelling
helped to guide his steps across the uneven ground.
And what kind of a dwelling was it that Roland called
his home ? It was nothing more than a little cave hol-
lowed out of the rocky hillside, where, long before, a
hcly hermit had made himself a quiet cell in which to
live, and worship God. The narrow entrance to the
cave was in great part hidden by flowering vines, which
Roland's mother had with daily care coaxed to grow in
the barren soil, and had trained to cling to the rough
rocks and twine among the crevices overhead. Inside
every thing betokened poverty. A single stool, a broken
table, a few earthen dishes, the simple articles which
ti>£ hermit had left, — these were the only pieces of
lUrniture. In one corner of the room hung an old set
of armor, dinted with many a lance-thrust, and hacked
in many a battle, but still kept bright against the day
when Roland should become a knight. Near it leaned
a long, broken lance which had done duty in more than
one tourney ; and beneath it was a battered shield, or
Roland and Oliver. 13
which were emblazoned the arms of Charlemagne. The
stone floor was bare, and the rough stone walls were
grimed with smoke, and the low ceilings were damp with
moisture. Few were the comforts of home in that
humble dwelling ; and but for the kind welcome of his
queen-like mother, the Lady Bertha, small would have
been the cheer that Roland would have found there.
" I have seen him, mother ! ' he cried, rushing into
her arms. " I have seen the great Charles and his
glorious army and his gallant peers. Would that I were
a man, that I. too, might ride forth with the king, the
bravest of the orave ! '
Then the gentle Bertha took the lad's hand in her
own, and the two sat down together in their lowly
dwelling, and Roland told her of all that he had seen
that memorable afternoon ; but he talked most of the
noble Charlemagne, and of his kingly grace and bear-
ing. Then he spoke again of his own hopes and of his
high ambition, and of the time when he should be a
knight, and, mayhap, one of the peers of the king.
"And now, dear mother," said he, "the time has
come for me to learn the great secret of my life. To-
lay I am twelve years old, — old enough to be a page ;
lO-day I have seen Charlemagne ; and to-day you have
promised to tell me all about my kinsfolk and myself,
and the great destiny which lies before me."
Then the Lady Bertha drew the lad close to her, and
told him the story of her own life 2nd his, — a story so
of strange surprises to Roland, that, when he heard
The Story of Rolan
it, he wept for joy and for the big thoughts that came
welling up from his heart. She told him that the great
king whom he had seen that day, and whose fame was
known in every land, was his uncle and her own brother.
She told him how she, the spoiled and petted daughtei
of Pepin, had been brought up at the French court;
and how, after her father's death, she had lived in her
brother's kingly palace at Aix, loved and honored next
to Charlemagne himself. Then she told, how, on a time,
there came to Charlemagne's court a worthy knight
named Milon, — a warrior poor and needy, but brave,
and without reproach. " Milon boasted that his kin had
been the noblest heroes of all time. Through his father
he traced his descent from the Greeks ; and he wore
the arms of Trojan Hector engraved upon his shield ;
and he numbered among his ancestors the godlike hero
Hercules. On his mother's side he claimed kinship
with the fair-haired heroes of the North, with the fear-
less Vikings, with Siegfried the dragon-slayer, with the
mighty Thor, and the matchless Odin.
"And when your mother, then the Princess Bertha,
saw the gallant Count Milon, and heard of his noble-
ness? and learned his true worth, she loved him. And
your uncle Charlemagne hated him, and banished him
from France, and sought even to take his life ; for he
wished to wed his sister to Duke Ganelon of Mayence,
one of his peers. But, when Milon fled from the king's
court at Aix, he went not alone ; he took me, the Prin-
cess Bertha, with him as his wife : for the good Arch
Roland and Oliver. 15
bishcp Turpin had secretly married us, and given us his
blessing, and promised to help us on our way to Italy.
When Charlemagne heard how he had been outwitted,
he was very angry, and he swore that he would do his
uttermost to ruin Count Milon, and to bring me back tc
France, and make me the wife of the hated Ganelon,
And so, to escape his anger, we dressed ourselves in
the guise of beggars, and wandered on foot from town
to t©wn and through many countries, begging our bread.
And wherever we went we met the spies of Charle-
magne seeking for Milon, and offering a price for his
head. At last we came to Sutri, tired and footsore, and
unable to go any farther. And, when none would take
us into their houses, we found shelter in this wretched
cave, which we fitted up the best that we could, to serve
as a home until we could soften the anger of Charle-
magne, and obtain his forgiveness. But soon after you
were born, Roland, the Pagan folk crossed the sea, and
came into Italy, and threatened Rome itself. Then
your father, the gallant Milon, remembering his knightly
vows, once more donned his armor ; and, taking his lance
and his shield, he went out to do battle for the king and
Cor the holy church. You know the rest. You know
ftow bravely he fought, and how he died, as heroes die,
with his face toward the foe. All this I have told you
often. And you know how we have lived these long,
weary years in this wretched hermit cell, dependent on
our kind neighbors for food, and hop ng always for
brighter and better days.
1 6 The Story of Roland.
" And now you have learned the story of your birth
and your kinship, and you know the destiny that ia
yours if you but do your part. The blood that flows in
your veins is the blood of heroes, and it will not belie
itself. You have seen Charlemagne, and to-day is the
turning point in your life. Before the king leaves Sutri,
he must acknowledge you as his nephew, and take you
as a page into his court."
Then mother and son sat long together in the quiet
cell, talking of the past, so fraught with distress and
poverty and wretchedness, and of the unknown future
with its vague promises and uncertain hopes. But so
great was the lad's trust in his own strength, and so
firm was the mother's faith in her son, that not once
did clouds of doubt darken the bright pictures which
their fancy painted of the good fortune yet in store for
them. And the little candle which lighted the humble
room burned down, and left them in darkness ; and the
moon rose over the hills, and peeped in through the
doorway, and sloped downwards toward the west ; and
the stars, one by one, looked in between the vines, and
then went onward in their endless journey around the
world ; and at length the eastern sky began to brighten,
and then to blush at the coming of the sun ; and still
the Lady Bertha and the boy Roland sat, unmindful of
the passing hours, and talked of the new life which they
felt must soon be theirs. But when the morning had
fairly come, and the first rays of the sun shot in upon
them, Roland, as if suddenly awakened, sprang to his
t, and cried, —
Roland and Oliver.
" Mother, the night is past, and the day has dawned !
— the first day in the great new life which is mine.
I will go at once to my uncle, the king, and demand my
rights and yours."
And with his mother's blessing and many a word oi
advice well fixed in his memory, the lad hurried away,
talking rapid'y across the fields toward SutrL
1 8 The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE //.
THE KING'S GUEST.
IT was a great day in Sutri. Never since the old
Roman days had so brilliant a company of warriors
and noble men been seen in that quiet town. In the
governor's castle the king and the peers of the realm
were being entertained and feasted. The chambers
and halls and courts were full of knights and squires ;
and every one talked of the noble order of chivalry, and
of war, and of arms and armor, and of the king's prog-
ress on the morrow to Rome. In the broad feast hall,
Charlemagne and his peers were dining. On the dais,
by the side of the king, sat Count Rainier, the govern-
or of Sutri. Around them stood many of the noblest
knights, attentive to their slightest wishes. Next below
the king sat Turpin, the warrior bishop, clad to-day,
oot in his war coat of steel, but in his rich official robes,
and looking much more the priest than the knight.
Next to him sat Duke Namon of Bavaria, the king's
counsellor, gray-bearded and sage, strong in fight, anJ
wise in statesmanship, — the oldest and the most trusted
of all the peers. On the other side was Malagis, the
The King's Guest.
cunning dwarf, who, it was said, had power over the
unseen creatures of the air, and by means of witchery
could sometimes foretell the things that were about to
befall, Next to him was old Ganelon of Mayence, at
heart a vile trailor, the smile of a hypocrite resting on
his thin lips, and his serpent-eyes twinkling with ar<
evil light. On either side of the long table below sat
many worthy knights, the most trusted warriors of
Charlemagne, and the doughtiest heroes in Christen-
dom. I doubt if ever more valor was seen in castle
hall.
Mirth and revelry ruled the hour ; and the long, low
hall rang with the sound of the harp and the flute
and the glad voices of the singers. The great oaken
table groaned beneath its weight of good cheer. The
lordly Count Rainier had provided for this feast every
thing that was pleasant to the taste, or that could add
zest to the appetite. The richest meats and the rarest
fruits, sparkling wine and foaming ale, the whitest bread
and the most tempting sweetmeats — all were offered in
generous profusion as if on purpose to make the knights
forgetful of their vows of temperance. In the court-
yard, around the open door, stood numbers of the poor
people of the town, listening to the music, and waiting
for the morsels that would be left after the feast. Sud-
denly a young boy, ragged and barefooted, appeared
among them. All stood aside for him, as, with proud
step and flashing eyes, he entered the great hall. With
the air of a lord he pushed his way through the crowd
20 Ttu Story of Roland.
of attendant knights and squires, and walked boldly up
to the table. Then, without saying a word, he seized
upon a basket of rare fruit and a loaf of bread that had
been placed before the king.
"Indeed," said Charlemagne, "that is a bold boye
He will make a brave knight."
But those who stood around were so awed by the
lad's proud bearing and by the strange flash of his eyes,
that they dared not touch him ; nor did they think of
placing any hinderance in his way until he had seized
the golden wine-cup which Charlemagne was on the
point of lifting to his lips.
"Stop!' cried the king. "How dare you be so
rude ? "
But Roland held fast to his prize ; and, fearless as a
young eagle, he gazed into the face of the king. Charle-
magne tried hard to appear angry ; but, in spite of him
self, a pleasant smile played upon his face, and his eyes
twinkled merrily,
"My boy," said he, "the forest is a fitter place than
this banquet hall for such as you. You would do better
picking nuts from the trees than snatching dishes from
the king's table ; and the wine which you have taken
from my hand is not nearly so good for you as the water
in the flowing brook."
" The peasant drinks from the brook," answered
Roland proudly ; " the slave gathers nuts in the forest.
But to my mother belong the best things that your table
affords. The choicest game, the rarest fish, the reddest
wine, are hers,"
King's truest. 21
" Ha ! " cried the king. " Your mother must indeed
be a noble lady ! And I suppose you will tell me that
she lives in a lordly castle, with scores of brave knights
and gentle dames about her, and that she sits daily in her
great feast hall at a table loaded with every delicacy
How many servants has she ? Who is her carver ? stnc>
who is her cup-bearer ? Come, tell us all about it."
" My right hand is her carver/' answered Roland ;
"and my left hand is her cup-bearer."
" And has she soldiers and watchmen and minstrelsf
this wonderful mother of yours ? '
" Indeed she has. These two arms are her soldiers ;
these eyes are her watchmen ; these lips are her min-
strels."
" That is a numerous household and a worthy one,"
answered the king, now very much amused. " But your
good mother has strange taste in the matter of livery
for her servantSo I see they are all bareheaded and
barefooted; and their clothing, what there is of it, if
made of all the colors of the rainbow. How came she
to furnish you with a robe so rich and rare ? '
*' My robe is of my own furnishing," answered Roland.
" Eight boys in the town do me homage ; and they pay
me tribute in cloth, each a different color. And now,
my lord, since you have learned all about my mother
and her household, will you not visit her in her castle ? '
Before the king could answer, the boy had turned on
his heel, and, with the basket of food and the cup of
wine in his hands, he fearlessly walked out of the hall
22 The Story of Roland.
Charlemagne was surprised at the boldness of the la.d;
and delighted with his witty answers.
" Let him go," said he. " A braver lad I have neve?
seen ; and he well deserves his prize. He v/ill yet be-
come the noblest knight in Christendom."
Then, turning to Duke Namon, he whispered, " Sa^
you that strange flash in his eye ? Was there ever a
fairer countenance, or a more king-like form ? Tell me
truly, did he not remind you of some one you have s^en
elsewhere ? '
" He did, my lord," answered Namon. " He reminded
me of your worthy father, the great Pepin. He has the
same noble features, the same broad brow, the same
clear gray eyes flashing with a strange light. He
reminded me, too, of yourself. Had he been clothed
in a garb befitting a prince, I should have imagined
that I saw you again as you appeared when a boy. But
he reminded me most of your lost sister, the fair Prin-
cess Bertha, The same gentleness of manner, the same
proud carriage of the head, the same curl of the lip, —
qualities that we once admired so much in the Lady
Bertha, —may all be seen in this wonderful boy."
*'J dreamed last night," said the king, "that my dar-
ling sister came to me, leading just such a boy as this,
And I thought that he grew tall and strong, and that
the whole world looked up to him as a pattern of
knightly valor and courtesy, and that he carried my
whole kingdom upon his shoulders Now this boy is
no common lad ; and the mother of whom he speaks
The King's Guest. 23
can be no common beggar. My heart tells me that she
is the long-lost, long-forgiven Bertha."
" Your heart speaks rightly," answered Namon. " The
son of no other lady could bear so perfect a likeness to
the Pepins. I am sure that we have found her at last"
Then Charlemagne turned to the dwarf Malagis.
"What say you, sir wizard?' he asked. "You have
the gift of foresight, and you can read that which lies
hidden to the eyes of others. What think you of a boy
who comes thus boldly to our table, and levies mail from
us as if it were his right ? '
The dwarf twisted and writhed about in his seat : he
smiled, as only wizards can smile, and then he humbly
but wisely answered, —
" My lord, the lad is no beggar. The blood of heroes
flows in his veins. Kings are his kinsmen. Great
deeds await his coming into manhood. Harm him not,
but have him sought out, and brought again before you,
I have read in the stars that somehow the woof of your
life is strangely interwoven with that of a lad like this."
Charlemagne at once ordered a dozen squires to follow
• he boy secretly to find where he dwelt, and then, with-
'it harming him, to bring both him and his mother to
:he castle. And then the feasting, which had been s<$
strangely broken off, was begun again. And the wassa-1
bowl went round, and many a weak-souled knight forgOv
his solemn vows of temperance ; and the old hall again
resounded with music and with uproarious mirth ;
the boy Roland was for a time forgotten.
24 The Story of Roland.
Very anxiously did the fair Bertha in the lonely
hermit cell await the return of her son that day. He
had left her in the morning, determined to make himself
known to Charlemagne, and to demand the forgiveness
of his mother, and her re-instatement in the king's
palace. He had promised to be back very soon, with a
palfrey for his mother to ride upon, and a company of
knights and squires to escort her to the castle. But
hour after hour had passed by ; and it was now high
noon, and still the boy did not come. Could it be pos-
sible that he had been too rash, and had been impris-
oned, or otherwise severely punished, for his boldness ?
Another hour went by ; and Bertha was about to despair
of his return, when Roland suddenly appeared around
the foot of the hill, carrying on his left arm a basket of
food and in his right hand a golden goblet of wine.
" Mother," he cried, as he set his burden down in the
doorway of the grotto, — " mother, I have brought you
some share of the feast. You shall not starve while
your brother, who is no better than you, eats and drinks
and has such plenty of other luxuries that he knows not
what to do with them."
Then he placed before her the bread and the wine,
And a delicately baked fowl, and the rare fruits ; and,
while she ate, he told her all thai had happened to him
since he had left her in the morning. He had waited a
long time about the palace doors, trying in vain to be
allowed to see the king. The guards said that he was
sleeping, and would not be disturbed. If he could only
The King's Guest. 25
have found his friend Oliver, all would have been well
But the page was nowhere to be seen ; and a squire
whom he asked said that he had gone that morning,
with a company of knights and dames, to Rome, and
that it would be long ere he returned again to Sutri
At length, by the merest chance, he had peeped in
through the open door of the banquet hall, and had seen
the king himself seated at the table.
" I could not bear," he said, " to see so great plenty
of all that was good, and to hear the mirth of the greedy
revellers, and know that you were here in this wretched
cave without a morsel of food. I walked right in and
took the best, nor did I regard that I was robbing the
king. He talked to me, and seemed not a bit angry ;
and I feel sure that he will send for me to come again
before him, and then I will tell him all."
"Ah, Roland," said the Lady Bertha doubtfully,
"you do not know your kingly uncle. He is hot-tern
pered and violent ; and he may yet punish you for your
rashness, and listen to no word of explanation or excuse.
Many an innocent man has suffered from his unreason-
ing anger."
" I am not afraid," answered the boy. " He was
altogether too jolly to be angry. And I expect, ere this
time to-morrow, to be installed as a page to the king or
to one of his peers."
He had scarcely spoken these words, when the squires
who had been sent in search of him came around the
foot of the hill, and halted only a few yards from the
26 The Story of Roland.
entrance to the grotto. Some were on foot, some on
horseback ; and all were armed with sticks, and more or
less under the influence of the strong ale which they
had drunk at the banquet. As soon as they saw
Roland, they called out loudly to him, ordeikg him to
surrender himself as their prisoner.
" Come along at once, my little one," cried the leader.
"The king wants you for robbing his table."
Had the squires approached Roland in a respectful
manner, he would have gone with them gladly. But
their insolence maddened him.
" Tell the king," he answered, " that I am holding
high court at home to-day, and that, if he wants me, he
must come after me himself."
"But you must come with us," cried the squires.
" You, and your mother the beggar woman, must come
with us to Sutri, and lose no time."
" Beggar woman, indeed!" cried Roland, overflowing
with rage. " How dare you speak thus of the sister oi
Charlemagne ? Go back to the king, and tell him that
his nephew is not wont to do the bidding of squires and
churls. Tell him that only by the worthiest of his
peers will my mother and I be taken into his presence."
At this boastful speech of one whom they looked
upon as only a beggar, the squires laughed heartily ; and
one or two of them shook their sticks in a threatening
manner, and made as if they would seize upon the boy.
Roland ran quickly into the grotto, and soon came out
again, bearing the long, broken lance in his hands. But
The King's Guest. 27
it was a heavy weapon, and, as he found it, an unwieldy
one. The squires closed in upon him from every side ;
and, as the great length of the lance prevented him from
turning it quickly enough to guard himself at all pointy
he was obliged to drop it to the ground In its stead,
he seized a stout light club that lay in his way, and then,
taking his stand in the doorway, he dared his assailants
to come within his reach.
" You shall see," said he, " whether I cannot defend
my mother's castle."
The squires, astonished at the quickness and the
pluck of the boy, fell back, and began trying to per-
suade him to go with them peaceably. But Roland
stood warily in the doorway of his castle, and answered
them only by swinging his club in the faces of the
nearest, and by withering glances of defiance. It is
uncertain how long this strange scene would have
lasted, or how it would have ended, had it not been
unexpectedly interrupted. A knight, unarmed, and
mounted on a coal-black steed, rode suddenly around
the hill, and reined up in the midst of the excited crowd.
His long hair and flowing beard were white with age ,
and his pleasant face beamed with kindliness, and was
lighted up with lines of far-seeing wisdom.
"Ha, my brave men!' he cried in tones of meiri
ment. " What have we here ? Twelve gallant squires
in combat with a single boy ! And the boy holds his
castle against them all. Surely this is chivalry ! What
does it all mean ? "
28 The Story of Roland.
"It means," answered Roland, "that these fellows
want to take me by force to the king at Sutri, and
they have insulted me and my mother. Were they
knights, or even gentlemen, I would go with them ; but
they are neither. They are mere churls and hangers
on about the governor's court, and they know nought ol
honor and knightly courtesy. It will be long ere they
are worthy to wear the golden spurs."
The knight was amused at the boy's earnestness ; and
he said, " I cannot blame you for refusing to be taken
by them. Yet I know that the king wishes very much
to see you and your good mother, and he has sent me
to hasten your coming. I am Namon, Duke of Bavaria,
and I am sometimes known as one of Charlemagne's
peers. Perhaps you will be willing to go with me if I
send these squires away."
Roland, without a word of dissent, dropped his club
to the ground, and promised to go with the good knight
at once if he would only find some means by which his
mother might be helped to reach Sutri castle without
the fatigue of walking so far. Duke Namon dismounted
from his steed, and, having sent the squires away, went
with Rcland into the little cavern. There he was
welcomed heartily by the Lady Bertha, who remem-
bered him as a firm, kind friend in former days, when
both were inmates of Charlemagne's palace at Aix.
And the fair lady and the noble knight talked long
together of things that had happened since then in
France, —of the gallant deeds of her brother the kingv
The King's Guest. 29
and of his many triumphs at home and abroad ; of the
death of the gallant Milon, and of the long years of
wretchedness and want that had since dragged by.
And the knight told her how Charlemagne had sought
in every land for her, and had sent messengers beyond
the sea to inquire for her, in order that he might grant
her his forgiveness, and make some amends for his
former harshness But all in vain. The messengers
had brought back >vord that Milon was dead, but they
could find no traces of his noble wife ; and Charlemagne
mourned her as lost. And then Namon told her oi
Roland's strange, daring deed in the feast hall at Sutri
castle that day, and of the thoughts that he and the king
had had about the boy ; and lastly he spoke of the king's
desire that she should appear at once before him, and, if
she were indeed the lost Princess Bertha, she should be
restored to her old place in his court and in his affec-
tions.
And towards evening the noble duke, with the Lady
Bertha mounted behind him on a pillion, rode gayly
over the fields to Sutri ; while Roland, proud and happy,
and carrying his father's broken lance on his shoulder,
Allowed them on foot Glad, indeed, was the greeting
with which the king welcomed his sister; but not a
word coald the fair Bertha speak, so overwhelmed was
she with gratitude. Roland, still wearing his livery oi
many-colored rags, but holding himself erect and
haughty as a prince, raised his wondrous gray eyes
antil they met Charlemagne's gaze,
3O The Story of Roland.
" Sister," said the king, " for this boy's sake, if for
nought else, all shall be forgiven. Let the past be
forgotten in the joy of the present hour."
"Dear brother/' said fair Bertha, "your kindness
not go unrewarded. Roland will not disappoint
He will grow up to be, next to you, the pattens
of all heroes and the type of all manly virtues," l
And the next day a great feast was held in the ban-
quet hall of Count Rainier's castle, in honor of the fair
princess and her gallant little son. And not only the
bravest warriors in Charlemagne's service, but also
many noble ladies and many knights from Rome and
the country round about, sat down with the king at the
festal board. And this time Roland was not an un
invited guest ; but he sat in the place of honor at the
king's right hand, while squires and servitors waited his
call, and hastened to do his bidding. And Charlemagne
rested two days longer at Sutri before proceeding on
his march ; and then he sent his sister, the princess,
with a guard of trustworthy knights, back to France
and to the pleasant palace and halls of Aix. But
Roland *vas made a page in the service of good Duke
Namon ; and, when the grand army moved on again
cowards Rome, he bade good-by to his humble friends
in Sutri, and made ready to go too. No happier,
prouder heart beat in Italy that day than Roland's,
Dressed in a rich gown of green velvet bordered with
crimson and gold, and mounted on a white palfrey
1 See Note 2 at the end of this volume.
The King's Guest. 31
handsomely harnessed, he seemed not like the bare-
footed beggar to whom the boys of Sutri had been
wont to do homage. But it needed not that one should
look closely to recognize that same noble form, those
wonderful gray eyes, that proud but kind-like face
And he rode not with the rout of squires and soldiers
and hangers-on who brought up the rear of the army,
but by the side of Duke Namon, and in company with
the bravest knights and the peers of the realm.
All along the road the people of the towns, the cas-
tles, and the countryside, crowded to see the conquer-
ing hero ; and they welcomed him with shouts and glad
songs as the guardian of Italy and the champion of all
Christendom. Three miles this side of Rome all the
noblest men of the city came out, with music playing
and banners waving, to escort the grand army through
the gates. At a mile from the walls the children of
the schools met them, bearing palm leaves and olive
branches in their hands, and strewing flowers in the
way, and singing hymns in honor of the hero king.
Charlemagne had laid aside his arms and his armor ;
and, dressed in his kingly robes, he rode by the side of
the good Archbishop Turpin. His mantle was wrought
af the finest purple, bordered with gold and ermine :
upon his feet were sandals sparkling with priceless
gems ; upon his head was a coronet of pearls and flash-
ing jewels. His horse was harnessed in the most
goodly fashion, with trappings of purpk daroask bor
dered with ermine and white cloth-of-gold.
32 The Story of Roland.
At the gate of the city the procession was met by a
company of priests and monks bearing the standard oi
the cross, which was never taken out save on the most
solemn and magnificent occasions. When Charlemagne
saw the cross, he and his peers alighted from their
horses, and went humbly on foot to the steps of St.
Peter's Church. There he was met by the Pope, the
bishops, and a great retinue of priests and monktS,
dressed in their richest vestments, who welcomed him
to Rome, and blessed him. And on every side, in the
streets and in the church, loud shouts rent the air, and
the people joined in singing the chant, " Blessed is he
that cometh in the name of the Lord."
The boy Roland, having never seen such grandeur,
was filled with wonder and astonishment. "Surely,"
said he, " this is the happy vale of paradise, of which
my mother has so often told me, where every Christian
knight hopes one day to find a home."
" It is not that vale," answered good Duke Namon ;
"but it is the beginning of the road which leads
thither." '
Not many days did Charlemagne remain at Rome
Messengers came to him from France, who said that
the Saxons and other Pagan folk had crossed the Rhine,
and were carrying fire and sword into the fairest por-
tions of the land ; and they begged him to hasten his
return to his own country, that he might protect his
people from the ravages of their barbarous foes. So,
Note 3 at the end of this ?ohti»R.
The King's Guest. 33
having received the homage and the blessing of the
Pope, and having been crowned with the iron crown oi
the Lombards, he marshalled all his forces, and set out
on his journey back to France. And late that same
autumn, Roland saw for the first time the noble city ol
Aix, and was formally installed as page in Duke Namon's
household
34 The Story of Rolana.
ADVENTURE III.
THE WAR WITH THE SAXONS.
A STORMY winter had set in. It was unlike any thing
that Roland had ever seen in his sunny southern home;
and he was scarcely more astonished by the grandeur oi
Charlemagne's court than by this wonderful war of the
elements. The bleak north winds, like so many giants
let loose, came roaring through the forests, and shriek-
ing among the house-tops and the castle towers, carrying
blinding tempests of sleet and snow in their arms, and
hurling them angrily to the ground. The rivers were
frozen over ; the roads were blockaded ; there was little
communication between Aix and other parts of Charle
magne's dominions. The main part of the army was
still in Southern France, and there it was ordered to
§tay until the opening of spring should make it possi
ble to advance against the Saxons.
Very pleasant to Roland was his first winter at
Charlemagne's court. Within the palace halls there
were comfort and good cheer ; the fires blazed high and
warm in the great chimney places ; there was much
music and meny-making; ; and for Roland there wer«*
The War with the Saxons. 35
many agreeable duties. Much of his time was spent in
the service of the ladies at court, and especially of the
Duchess Blanchefleur, the wife of good Duke Namon,
And he was instructed in the first duties of the true
knight, — to reverence God, and honor the king ; to
speak the truth at all times; to deal justly with both
[riend and foe ; to be courteous and obliging to his
equals ; to be large-hearted and kind to those beneath
him in rank ; and, above all, to help the needy, to pro-
tect the weak, and to respect and venerate the ladies.
Some time, too, he spent in the company of his lord,
Duke Namon. He waited on him at table, he poured
out his wine, he carried his messages ; and much wis-
dom did he learn, listening to the words that fell from
the lips of the sage counsellor. He became acquainted,
too, with the officers of the court, and with the squires
and grooms about the palace. And he learned how to
manage horses, and how to mount and ride a high-
mettled steed. He was taught how to hold a lance with
ease, how to handle the broadsword dexterously, and
how to draw the longbow, and shoot with sharp-sighted
skill. When the weather was fine, and the snow not
too deep on the ground, he often rode out with his mas-
ter and other knights to hunt the deer and wild boars
in the forest. And he learned all about the training
and care of falcons and merlins and hunting-hounds,
and how to follow the game in the wildwood, and how
to meet the charge of a wounded buck or a maddened
boar. Sometimes, during the long winter evenings, he
30 7*ke Story of Roland.
sat in the school of the palace with Charlemagne and
the members of the family, and listened to the wise in
structions of Alcuin, the English schoolmaster. And
he learned to read in the few Latin books that were
treasured with great care in the scriptorium^ or writing-
room, of the palace ; and sometimes, under the direction
of the schoolmaster, he tried to copy the beautiful letters
of some old-time manuscript. At other times he sat
with the knights and the squires in the low-raftered
feast-hall, and listened to the music and the song-stories
of some wandering harper.
And thus the winter months sped swiftly by ; and as
the days began to grow longer and warmer, and the
snow melted from the ground, and the ice thawed in
the rivers, Charlemagne thought it time to make ready
for the long-deferred campaign against the Saxons.
Messengers were sent out in every direction to summon
every true knight and every loyal fighting man to join
the king's standard at Aix ; and it was expected, that, by
the time of the Easter festival, a hundred thousand war-
riors would be there, ready to march against the Pagan
folk of the North. About the king's castle many busy
preparations were going on. Some were furbishing up
their arms, or mending their old armor ; others were
providing new weapons for themselves, or new harness
for their steeds ; knights, squires, pages, and grooms,
all found enough to do, and all looked forward with
eager impatience to the day that was set foi the march.
In the smithies the bellows roared and the fires glowed ;
The War with the Saxons. 37
and smiths and armorers worked day and night, forging
swords and spear points, and riveting armor plates and
rings of mail. And even in the kitchens there was an
unwonted hurrying to and fro, and the sound of busy
voices and busier hands ; while in the halls and the
ca*} tie-chambers many a brave-hearted lady sat stitching
and embroidering rich garments for her lord.
The time of the Easter festival came at last. Grass
?vas springing fresh and green in the meadows. The
trees were putting forth their leaves. In the wildwood
the voice of the cuckoo and the song of the warbler
were heard. The ice had disappeared from the river,
and the snow had melted in the valleys : the roads were
once more passable. It seemed a fitting time for the
beginning of new schemes and of bold undertakings.
And early one April morning the great army, with
Charlemagne and his peers at its head, filed out of the
city, and began its march toward the Rhine. And
Roland, proud and happy as a knight with spurs, was
allowed to ride in the train of Duke Namon.
When the Saxons heard of the coming of the Franks,
they hastily crossed again into their own country, and
shut themselves up in their towns and strongholds. But
Charlemagne followed them without delay ; nor did the
wide, deep Rhine hinder him long. Through all their
land he carried fire and sword; nor did he spare any
one through pity. For he was a Christian : while the
Saxons were Pagans, and worshipped Thor and Odin ;
and many of them had never heard of the true God
38 '1/u biory of Roland.
It is said, that, a little while before this time, an Eng-
lish priest named St. Liebwin had gone alone into
the very heart of Saxony for the purpose of carrying
the gospel of Christ to that benighted folk. Boldly he
stood up before them when they came to worship in
their false temples, and, holding the cross in his hands^
he upbraided them.
" What do ye ? " he said. " The gods that ye worship
live not, they understand not, they see not. They are
the works of your hands. They can help neither you
nor themselves. Wherefore, the only true and good
God, having pity on you, has sent me unto you to warn
you of the trouble which shall come upon you unless ye
put away your false gods. A prince, wise, strong, and
unsleeping, shall come among you, and he shall fall upon
you like a torrent. At one rush he shall invade your
country ; and he shall lay it waste with fire and sword,
and spare none."
Great was the anger of the Pagan folk when they
heard this bold speech of St. Liebwiru Some threa-
tened to tear him to pieces in front of their temples :
others ran in haste to the woods, and began to cut
sharpened stakes with which to slay him. But one,
more wise than the rest, a chief named Buto, stood up
before them, and cried out, " Do not act rashly in this
matter ! It is against our laws, and contrary to our
custom, to mistreat or abuse ambassadors. We have
always received them kindly, hearkened to their mes-
sages, and sent them away with presents. Here is an
The War with the Saxons. 39
ambassador from a great God; and should we slay
him ? "
The words of the chief softened the anger of the
Saxons, and they allowed St. Liebwin to return un-
harmed across the Rhine. But they still clung to theii
false gods, and thought no more of his warning until
after Charlemagne had overrun their country, and car«
ried dire distress among them.
Among the places which fell into the hands of the.
French was the stronghold of Ehresburg, near which
was a temple of the Saxons, — a spacious building, wide
and high, and ornamented with thousands of trophies
taken in battle. In the midst of this temple stood a
marble column on which was the figure of an armed
warrior holding in one hand a banner, and in the other
a balance. On the breastplate of the figure was en-
graven a bear ; and on the shield which hung from his
shoulders was painted a lion in a field full of flowers,
This figure was the idol known in history as Irmin, and
was the image of the war-god of the Saxons. Charle-
magne caused the temple of Irmin to be torn down and
destroyed, and he buried the idol and its column deej.
in the earth. But so great was the building, and so
large was the image, that the whole army was employed
three days in their destruction.
By this time midsummer had come. The sun shone
hot and fierce in a cloudless sky. There had been no
rain since the early spring, and the ground was parched
and dry. There was no water in the brooks ; the
40 Tke Story of Roland.
springs ceased flowing ; and ere long the river itself
became dry. The leaves of the trees withered for want
of moisture ; the grain would not ripen in the fields ;
the meadows and pastures were burned up with the heat
Mid the long drought. Warriors who had never turned
their backs upon a foe trembled now at the thought of
death from thirst and starvation. Horrible indeed was
the fate which threatened the French army, and Char-
lemagne ordered a quick retreat towards the river
Rhine, Yet both men and horses were weak with fast-
ing, and exhausted by the oppressive heat; and the
march was slow and painful They reached the dry
bed of an unknown stream, and could go no farther.
The soldiers groped among the rocks, and tried in vain
to find some trace of moisture in the sand. Every
mind was burdened with despair. Not one among the
knights but that would have given his richest fief for a
drink of cold water.
All at once a storm cloud was seen in the south.
Rapidly it rose higher and higher above the horizon.
The lightnings flashed ; the roar of distant falling rain
was heard. A great hoarse shout went up from the
parched throats of ten thousand warriors. They were
saved. Soon the bed of the river was filled with a tor-
rent of rushing, foaming water ; and men and beasts
hastened to quench their thirst And good Archbishop
Turpin, taking the crucifix in his hand, stood up before
the host, and thanked Heaven for this timely deliver-
ance. And all joined in sr1— — *ly singing praises ts
The War with the Saxons. 41
God ; and all devoutly believed that they had been thus
blessed because they had overthrown the idol of Irmin,
and destroyed his temple. The very same day the Sax-
ons sent to Charlemagne begging for peace, and offer-
ing to do him homage, and pay him tribute. And the
king took hostages from them from among the noblest
families in the land, and then recrossed the Rhine into
his own country.1
1 S«e Note 4 at the end of this
42 T/ie Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE IV.
THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN.
ONE day Roland stood at the window of a castle over
looking the Rhine, while Charlemagne and Duke Namon
sat on the balcony outside, enjoying the pleasant breeze
that was wafted to them from the not far-distant sea.
All at once the clear-ringing sound of a bell reached
their ears. At first it seemed far away ; but it came
slowly nearer and nearer, until the whole air seemed
filled with the sweet, simple music. By this time all
eyes in the castle were turned in the direction whence
the sounds seemed to come. The windows and doors,
the battlements and the towers, were crowded with
knights and ladies, squires, pages, and menials, all
charmed by the sweet tones, and all anxious to know by
what strange power they were produced.
"What seest thou down the river?" asked the king
of the watchman on the tower.
" My lord," answered the watchman, " I see nothing
save the waving of the reeds in the wind, and the long
ripple of the waves on the shelving banks."
Still louder and clearer rang the bell ; still nearer and
me Knight of the Swan. 43
nearer it seemed to come. All Nature appeared to be
listening.
" Watchman," cried the king again, " seest thou yet
any thing ? '
" I see," answered the watchman, " a mist, like a little
silver cloud, resting upon the water, and coming slowly
toward us. But I cannot distinguish aught else
Sweeter and sweeter grew the sounds, like the music
of angel voices in the air. The hearts of the listeners
stood still ; they held their breath ; they feared to break
the wondrous spell.
"Watchman," cried the king, "what seest thou
now ? "
" My lord," answered now the watchman, " I see a
white swan floating on the water ; and on its neck there
is a crown of gold ; and behind it is a silver boat made
like the shell of a scallop, which it draws by a silken
cord ; and in the scallop sits a knight in full armor.
But the device on his shield is a strange one, and I can-
not tell from what land he comes. In the bow of the
boat hangs a little bell ; but I know not whether the
sound which so ravishes our ears is made by its ringing,
or whether it is the song of the swan."
And now the swan and the strange little boat were
plainly seen by all the inmates of the castle. Slowly
they drew nearer and nearer to the quay. At last the
boat came alongside of the landing place, and stopped.
The music, too, ceased as soon as the swan left off row-
ing. Then certain of the king's men stepped down to
44 The Story of Roland.
the water-side ; and one whose name was Nibelung, and
who had come from the unknown Northland, gave the
stranger his hand, and helped him from the scallop.
And the swan turned about, and swam away in the
direction whence he had come, drawing the empty shell-
boat behind him. And the strange, sweet music, which
began again as soon as the swan commenced rowing,
grew fainter and still more faint, until at last it died
away in the far distance, and was never heard again.
The strange knight, who was ever afterward known
as the Knight of the Swan, was led into the presence
of the king. But he spoke not a word to any one ; and
although he seemed right nobly bred, and courteous,
it was soon plain to all that he was quite dumb. Before
the king there stood warriors from every land, — French-
men, Italians, Greeks, Persians, Goths, Saxons, and
Danes ; and he commanded each of these to speak in
his own tongue to the stranger. But the Knight of the
Swan answered not a word, nor seemed to understand
what they said to him. Then Roland saw that a blue
ribbon was tied around the stranger's neck, and that to
it was fastened a small roll of parchment.
" My lord," said he to the king, "perhaps this roll will
tell who he is, and why he comes in this strange manner
to you."
"Take the parchment," said the king, "and sec if
any thing is written thereon."
And Roland unloosed the ribbon from the stranger's
neck, and opened the roll, and read these words
The Kmgkt of the Swan. 45
NAME is GERARD SWAN, OF THE RACE OF LOHENGRIN.
I SEEK A HOME WITH YOU, AND A WIFE, AND A FIEF
OF LANDS.'
" Right welcome are you, Sir Gerard of the Swan ! "
said the king, taking his hand. " You shall have all
for which you have come, and much more."
Then Nibelung, by the king's command, unarmed the
knight, and carried his sword and shield and rich armor
to the guard room. And the clothing which the stranger
wore beneath his armor was of the most princely kind, —
of purple velvet embroidered with gold. And he had
upon his hand a ring of curious workmanship, in which
was set a cross that glittered like the rays of the sun.
And the king took off his own mantle of crimson silk
and rich ermine, and threw it over the knight's shoulders.
And a banquet was held that day in token of rejoic-
ing for the victories so lately won ; and the Knight of
the Swan sat at the right hand of the king.
"Why does my uncle show so great honor to a
stranger ? " asked Roland afterward.
" He is a godsend," said Duke Namon. " Wherever
he is, there will Heaven's favor be ; and whatever cause
he may espouse, it will prosper."
"He looks, indeed, like a strong-hearted knight,"
thought Roland.
Not many days after this, Charlemagne and his war-
riors returned to Aix. And the Knight of the Swan
proved himself to be in all things upright and trust-
4.6 The Story of Roland.
worthy. He soon learned to talk ; and, next to Duke
Namon, he was long looked up to as the ablest of the
king's advisers, And so highly did Charlemagne esteem
him, chat he gave him his sister, the Princess Adalis, ID
marriage, and made him Duke of Ardennes. But no
man durst ever ask him whence he came, or to what
race he belonged.1
Note 5 at the ®»d of this
tfie JJane. 47
ADVENTURE V.
OGIER THE DANE.
ON the day that Roland was fourteen years old, he
was allowed to lay aside his page's dress, and don the
garb of a squire. Very proud was he of this new honor,
and faithfully did he try to merit it. He was now no
longer a boy, whose chief duties were to serve the ladies
of the household, and to wait on his master at table.
He was regarded as a youth perfecting himself in the
use of arms, and making himself ready for the active
business of knighthood. He learned now to handle all
kinds of weapons, and very expert did he become in
the use of the sword and the heavy lance. He prac
tised himself in every manly art, and learned to endure
every sort of hardship. And there was no one in
Charlemagne's court, nor, indeed, in all France, who
could excel him in the feats of skill and strength
in which the young men of those days prided them
selves.
About this time there came to dwell in the house-
hold of Duke Namon a youth, some three years older
than Roland, xiamed Ogier. He was a Dane, and had
The Story of Roland.
come to France as a hostage. Very tall he was, and
straight as a mountain pine ; and men said that a hand
somer youth had never been seen. His father was God
frey, king of Denmark, known everywhere as one of the
bravest and most daring of the Northmen : he lived in
a strong-built castle on the shore of the sea, and had
long boasted that he acknowledged no man as his peer,
not even the mighty Charlemagne of France. Many
years had Godfrey ruled over the rude and danger-loving
people of Denmark ; and the swift-sailing dragon ships
of the jarls and vikings who owned him as their master
were known and feared in every sea and on every coast,
from Jutland to Cornwall and Finisterre. And it was
whispered that the Danish king had even hoped to rival
Charlemagne in power, and that he had dreamed of
making himself, some day, the master of all Europe.
And this is the story that men tell of the childhood
of Ogier. When he was but a babe in his mother's
arms, there was heard one day, in his father's castle, the
sweetest music that mortals ever listened to. Nobody
knew whence the bewitching sounds came ; for they
seemed to be now here, now there : yet every one was
charmed with the delightful melody, and declared that
only angels could make music so heavenly. Then sud-
denly there came into the chamber where Ogier lay six
fairies, whose beauty was so wonderful and awful, that
none but a babe might gaze upon them without fear,
And each of the lovely creatures bore in her hands a
garland of the rarest flowers, and rich gifts of gold and
Ogier the Dane. 49
gems. And the first fairy took the child in her arms,
and kissed him, and said, —
" Better than kingly crown, or lands, or rich heritage,
fair babe, I give thee a brave, strong heart. Be fearless
as the eagle, and bold as the lion ; be the bravest
knight among men."
Then the second fairy took the child, aud dandled
him fondly on her knees, and looked long and lovingly
into his clear gray eyes.
"What is genius without opportunity?" said she.
" What is a brave heart without the ability to do brave
deeds ? I give to thee many an opportunity for manly
action."
The third fairy laid the dimpled hands of the babe
in her own white palm, and stroked softly his golden
hair.
" Strong-hearted boy, for whom so many noble deeds
are waiting, I, too, will give thee a boon. My gift is
skill and strength such as shall never fail thee in fight,
nor allow thee to be beaten by a foe. Success to thee,
fair Ogier ! "
The fourth fairy touched tenderly the mouth and the
eyes and the noble brow of the babe.
** Be fair of speech," said she, " be noble in action,
be courteous, be kind : these are the gifts I bring
thee. For what will a strong heart, or a bold under-
taking, or success in every enterprise, avail, unless one
has the respect and the love of one's fellow-men ? '
Then the fifth fairy came forward, and clasped Ogie/
50 The Story of Roland.
in her arms, and held him a long time quietly, without
speaking a word. At last she said, —
"The gifts which my sisters have given thee wili
icarcely bring thee happiness ; for, while they add to thy
aonor, they may make thee dangerous to others. They
uiay lead thee into the practice of selfishness, and bast
acts of tyranny. That man is little to be envied who
loves not his fellow-men. The boon, therefore, that I
bring thee is the power and the will to esteem others as
frail mortals equally deserving with thyself."
And then the sixth fairy, the youngest and the most
beautiful of all, who was none other than Morgan le
Fay, the Queen of Avalon, caught up the child, and
danced about the room in rapturous joy. And, in tones
more musical than mortals often hear, she sung a sweet
lullaby, a song of fairyland and of the island vale of
Avalon, where the souls of heroes dwell.
And, when she had finished singing, Morgan le Fay
crowned the babe with a wreath of laurel and gold, and
lighted a fairy torch that she held in her hand. " This
torch," said she, " is the measure of thy earthly days ;
and it shall not cease to burn until thou hast visited rae
hi Avalon, and sat at table with King Arthur and the
heroes who dwell there in that eternal summer-land."
Then the fairies gave the babe gently back into his
mother's arms, and they strewed the floor of the cham-
ber with many a rich gem and lovely flower ; and the
odor of roses and the sweetest perfumes filled the air,
and the music of angels' voices was heard above ; and
Ogter the Dane, 51
the fairies vanished in a burst of sunbeams, and were
seen no more. And when the queen's maidens came
soon afterward into the chamber, they found the child
smiling in his mother's arms. But she was cold and
lifeless : her spirit had flown away to fairyland,,
And Ogier, though left thus motherless, was carefully
tended and reared, and became, not only the pet of the
king's household, but the hope of all Denmark. The
wisest men were lured from other lands, and employed
as teachers of the young prince ; and he was instructed
in all the arts, and in all the learning, of the times.
And he grew to b<* a strong and handsome youth, tali
and comely, and skilful in every manly exercise. No
knight in all his father's domains could ride so well as
he ; none could wield the sword with greater skill, or
handle the lance more easily ; and no one was more
courteous, more kind to his friends, more terrible to his
foes, than Ogier. And the Danes looked forward with
secret pleasure to the time when he should become their
king. But he had scarcely passed the years of a page
and been made a squire in his father's household, when
ihere came a great change to him, and his life's outlook
was sadly altered. His father had married a scheming,
heartless woman, who hated Ogier, and who sought to
drive him away from Denmark in order that her own
son, Guyon, might be the heir to the kingdom. And she
daily poisoned the king's mind by persuading him that
Ogier was plotting against him, and planning to seize
52 The Story of Roland.
his kingdom. And King Godfrey, when he saw with
what favor the people looked upon his son, grew strange*
ly jealous and cold, and treated him harshly and oft-
times cruelly. But Ogier, nothing daunted by ill fortune,
or by the frowns of his father, or by the taunts of his
evil-minded step-mother, held on his way, and allowed
neither malice nor despair to interfere with his happi-
ness, or to make him forgetful of his duties,
At about the time when Ogier was sixteen years old,
the news first came to Charlemagne of the greatness of
the Danish king, and of his project to set up a rival
kingdom in the North. And he vowed that the Danes
too, as all the neighboring nations had already done,
should acknowledge him their sovereign lord, and pay
him tribute. He sent, therefore, an embassy of a hun-
dred knights, under Ganelon of Mayence, to demand of
King Godfrey a promise of homage and fealty, as the
holder of a fief from France. King Godfrey received
the messengers kindly, and entertained them in the
most kingly manner for seven days. And, when they
had told him their errand, he led them through the dif-
ferent apartments of his strong castle, and showed them
the well-built walls, and the variety of weapons, and the
great store of provisions, that he had laid in, in readi-
ness against a siege. And he said, " Tell Charlemagne
that there are a hundred such castles in Denmark, and
that not one has ever been surprised or taken by a
foe."
Then he caused to pass before them the flower of his
Ogier the Dane. 53
army, — ten thousand knights, clad in complete armor,
and mounted on matchless steeds of war.
"Tell Charlemagne," said he, "that what you have
seen is but a small part of my strength, and that, if he
wishes to fight for the mastership, I am ready to meet
him."
" On what conditions ? " asked Ganelon. " You would
best make them liberal, for Charlemagne seldom grants,
and never asks terms."
" On these conditions," answered the king, — " that
the vanquished shall embrace the religion of the victor,
and become his vassal."
" It is well," said Ganelon. " I will carry your
answer to Charlemagne."
Then the king gave rich presents to the messengers,
and sent them back again into their own country.
When Charlemagne heard the boastful message that
was brought to him by Ganelon, he at once called to-
gether an army of fifty thousand men, and marched
northward to chastise the audacious Dane. A great
battle was fought, and King Godfrey was terribly de-
feated. The ten thousand knights, of whose bravery
he had boasted, were found to be no match for the
better trained and more skilful warriors of France.
The Eanish army was routed, and the king himself
was taken prisoner.
" What now sayest thou about the mastership ? " asked
Charlemagne in great anger* " What now wilt thou
give for thy life ? '
54 The Story of Roland.
" I will abide by the conditions on which I at first
offered to fight you," answered Godfrey. " I will be-
come a Christian, and be your vassal ; and, if I may
hold the fief of Denmark, I will pay you a yearly tribute
of whatever sum you may demand/1
\ Then Charlemagne, who was ever lenient to a faller.
foe, willingly made peace with the Danish king, and?
after he had been baptized, made him Duke of Denmark.
But he asked, that, in proof of his sincerity, Godfrey
should give up as hostages four of the noblest youths
about his court. This the humbled Dane agreed to do ;
md by the advice of his wife he gave his own son,
.he matchless Ogier, as one of the four. And not long
after this, Charlemagne and his host returned home.
It chanced that Duke Namon of Bavaria saw the
Danish prince, and was much pleased with his open
countenance, his noble form, and his courtly manner;
and he hastened to get leave of the king to have the
young man in his own household, not as an underling or
a servant, but as a worthy and honored squire. And it
was thus that Ogier and Roland came to dwell beneath the
same roof. And their friendship waxed daily stronger
%nd stronger, until in the end they exchanged tokens,
and pledged each other as brothers in arms. Neverthe-
less, Roland still remembered Oliver with the same
brotherly love as of yore, and allowed not his affection
for Ogier to make him forget his earlier vows of brother-
flood.
Ogie grew daily stronger and more handsome, and
Ogier the Dane. 55
more skilful in every feat of arms, and more graceful
in every deed of courtesy. And none of the youths
about the French court, not even Roland, could equal
him in the games wherein their strength and endurance
were tried But as months and months went by, and
his father allowed him still to be held as a hostage and
a prisoner in a strange land, his heart sometimes burned
with impatience, or sometimes grew sad with a weary
longing for freedom.
In the mean while, Duke Godfrey, the father of Ogier.
was too busy plotting treason against his liege lord
Charlemagne to have much thought for his son ; and
indeed, so great was his feeling of jealousy toward
Ogier, that he had no wish to have him ever return to
Denmark. His wife was very anxious that the Danish
crown might be left to her own son, Guyon ; and she at
length persuaded her husband to withhold from Char-
lemagne the tribute which had been promised ; for she
hoped that the French king would become so angered
by this neglect that he would put the hostages to death.
And now four years had passed, and Charlemagne
had not received a penny of tribute from Godfrey ; nor
had the Danish duke come once to his court to do him
homage, as he had agreed. Often had the king threat-
ened to punish the Dane for his neglect. But his wars
in Italy and with the Saracens had claimed all his time,
and the affairs of Denmark were allowed to rest with-
out much attention. And Godfrey went on strength-
ening his castles, and building a fleet, and training bis
56 The Story of Re Land.
fighting men ; and he persuaded himself that he would
yet outwit and get the better of the king. But one day
Charlemagne, as he sat at table with his peers around
him, chanced to remember the slighted tribute, and the
homage so long due him from Duke Godfrey.
"While all my enemies are humbled in the dust,"
said he, " this Dane is the only man who dares neglect
his duty. He shall be reminded at once of his broken
promises, and of the debt which he owes us."
And he immediately despatched an embassy of four
trustworthy knights, with a retinue of squires and servi-
tors, to the court of Denmark to demand that the trib-
ute so long overdue should bs paid without furthef
delay.
How the Army crossed the Alps. 57
ADVENTURE VI.
HOW THE ARMY CROSSED THE ALPS.
IT was near the time of the solemn festival of Easter,
— the time when Nature seems to rise from the grave,
and the Earth puts on anew her garb of youth and
beauty. King Charlemagne was at St. Omer ; for there
the good Archbishop Turpin was making ready to cele-
brate the great feast with more than ordinary grandeur.
Thither, too, had gone the members of the king's house-
hold, and a great number of lords and ladies, the noblest
in France. There were the queen, the fair Fastrada,
and Charlemagne's two sons Chariot and Louis, and
his sisters Bertha and Alice, and his daughters Belis-
sent and Emma.1 And there also were many of the
peers of the realm, — Duke Namon, and Ganelon, and
Malagis the wizard, and Alcuin the English school-
master, and Gerineldo the king's scribe, and Roland,
and Cgier the Dane. And with many fond anticipa-
tions all awaited the coming of the festal day, and the
new season of active duty and labor which it would
usher in.
1 See Note 6 at the «nd of this volume.
58 The Story of Roland.
But there came fleet messengers to St. Omer, bearing
to Charlemagne news as unlooked-for as it was disagree-
able. The ambassadors whom he had sent last autumn
to claim the homage and the tribute due from Duke
Godfrey of Denmark had come home with shaved faces
and tonsured heads. Barely had they escaped with their
lives from the traitorous Dane. And they had brought
this word from Godfrey. " Tell your king," said he,
" that the lord of Denmark is no man's thrall, and that
never will he do homage, or pay aught of tribute, to any
foreign tyrant."
Great was the wrath of Charlemagne, and he declared
at once that Ogier the Dane, and his three comrades,
should be put to death ; for, according to the terms
^..ide with Godfrey, the young men were now for-hos-
taged, and their lives were justly forfeited. And in spite
of the sage advice of Duke Namon, and the prayers of
the queen herself, the king caused the four hostages to
be thrown into the dungeon of St. Omer ; and he threa-
tened, that, as soon as Eastertide was past, they should
be brought out, and hanged in the sight of all the people.
Then word was sent to Paris and to Aix, and to all the
chiefs and lords in France, calling every one who was
able to bear arms to rally around the king's standard^
and be ready on a moment's notice to move against the
traitorous Duke of Denmark. And when, at length,
Easter morning broke, and the sun rose clear and bright
in a cloudless sky, its rays fell upon the armor and
banners of a mighty host encamped at St. Omer, and
How the Army crossed the Alps. 59
expecting on the morrow to begin the march to the
North.
But a new surprise awaited Charlemagne. Scarcely
had the good archbishop pronounced a blessing upon
the devout multitude assembled at the Easter service*
when two messengers came in hot haste, and demanded
to speak with the king. They had come from Rome,
and they bore letters from Pope Leo. Sad was the news
which these letters brought, but it was news which
would fire the heart of every Christian knight. The
Saracens had landed in Italy, and had taken Rome by
assault. " The pope and the cardinals and the legates
have fled," said the letters ; " the churches are torn
down ; the holy relics are lost ; and the Christians are
put to the sword. Wherefore the Holy Father charges
you as a Christian king to march at once to the help of
the Church."
It needed no word of Charlemagne to arouse the ardor
of his warriors. Every other undertaking must be laid
aside, so long as Rome and the Church were in danger.
The design of marching against the Danes was given
up for a time ; and the heralds proclaimed that on the
morrow, at break of day, the array, instead of advancing
northward, would move southward toward Italy,
" What shall we do with Ogier and the other Danish
hostages ? ' asked Ganelon, smiling, and hoping that
the king would carry out his threats, and have the
young men put to death.
" It is no fit time tc deal with them now/' answered
6o The Story of Roland.
the king. "Let the three who are of lower rank lie
in prison where they are. But as for Ogier, the prince,
do you take charge of him, and bring him with you tc
Rome. See that he does not escape ; and, when w«
have driven the Pagans out of the city, we shall havs
him hanged as a traitor in the sight of the whole host'"
The morning after Blaster dawned, and the great
army waited for the signal to march. The bugles
sounded, and the long line of steel-clad knights and
warriors began to move, Charlemagne rode in the
front ranks, ready, like a true knight, to brave every
difficulty, and to be the first in every post of danger.
Never did a better king wear spur. Roland, as was his
wont on such occasions, rode by the side of Duke
Namon, carrying that knight's shield and the heavier
parts of his armor ; and, as became a trusty squire, he
thought not of his own pleasure, but of the comfort of
him whom he served. Nor did he consider his own
safety or his own honor to be matters of concern, so
long as Duke Namon was his lord. But Ogier the Dane
rode in the rear of the host, with Ganelon's squires ; and,
being a prisoner, he was not allowed to carry any arms,
or to move out of sight of the young men who guarded
him,
Great was the haste with which the army moved, and
very impatient were the warriors ; for the whole of
France lay between them and fair Italy, and they knew
that weeks of weary marching must be endured, ere
they could meet their Pagan foe in battle, and drive him
How the Army crossed the Alps. 61
out of the Christians' land. Many days they rode among
the rich fields, and between the blooming orchards, of
the Seine valley ; many days they toiled over unbroken
forest roads, and among marshes and bogs, and across
untrodden moorlands. They climbed steep hills, and
swam broad rivers, and endured the rain and the wind
and the fierce heat of the noonday sun, and sometimes
even the pangs of hunger and thirst. But they carried
brave hearts within them ; and they comforted them-
selves with the thought that all their suffering was for
the glory of God and the honor of the king, for their
country's safety and the security of their homes. And
every day, as they advanced, the army increased in
numbers and in strength : for the news had been
carried all over the land, that the Saracens had taken
Rome, and that Charlemagne with his host was hasten-
ing to the rescue ; and knights and noblemen from every
city and town and countryside came to join his stand-
ard, sometimes alone and singly, and sometimes with a
great retinue of fighting men and servitors. And when
at last they had passed the boundaries of France, and
only the great mountains lay between them and Italy,
Charlemagne could look behind him, and see an army
df a hundred thousand men. And now messengers
came to him again, urging him to hasten with all speed
to the succor of the pope.
But the Alps Mountains lifted themselves up in his
pathway, and their snowy crags frowned threateningly
upon him ; their steep, rocky sides arose like walls be
02 'ine &tory of Roland.
fore him, and seemed to forbid his going farther ; and
there appeared to be no way of reaching Italy, save by
a long and circuitous route through the southern passes.
In the hope that he might find some shorter and easie?
passage, Charlemagne now sent out scouts and moun
taineers to explore every valley and gorge, and every
seeming mountain pass. But all came back with the
same story : there was not even so much as a path up
which the mountain goats could clamber, much less a
road broad enough for an army with horses and baggage
to traverse. The king was in despair, and he called
together his counsellors and wise men to consider what
should be done. Duke Namon urged that they should
march around by way of the southern passes ; for,
although a full month would thus be lost, yet there
was no c'her safe and well-known land-route to Italy.
Ganelon advised that they should turn back, and,
marching to Marseilles, embark from thence on ships,
and ur j/.rtake to reach Rome by way of the sea.
Thf:a the dwarf Malagis came before Charlemagne,
bearing in his hand a book, from which he read many
spells and weird enchantments. Upon the ground he
irew with his wand a magic ring, and he laid therein
:he hammer of Thor and the sword of Mahmet. Then,
in a loud, commanding voice, he called upon the sprites,
the trolls, and the goblins, with whom he was familiar,
to come at once into his presence. And the lightning
flashed, and the thunder rolled, and smoke and fire burst
forth from the mountain peaks, and the rocks and great
How the Army crossed the Alps. 63
ice-fields were loosened among the crags, and came
tumbling down into the valley. And dwarfs and elves;
and many an uncanny thing, danced and shouted in the
mountain caves ; and grinning ogres peeped out from
the deep clefts and gorges ; and the very air seemed
full of ghostlike creatures. Then the wizard called by
name a wise but wicked goblin, known among the
Saracens as Ashtaroth ; and the goblin came at once,
riding in a whirlwind, and feeling very angry because
he was obliged to obey.
"Tell me now," said Malagis, "and tell me truly,
whether there is here so much as a pathway by which
Charlemagne may lead his army through the moun
'ains.'
The goblin was silent for a moment ; and a dark cloud
rested upon his face, and his look was terrible. But
the wizard, in no wise daunted, returned his glance,
and in the tones of a master bade him clear up that
clouded look, and answer the question he had asked.
Then Ashtaroth curbed his anger, and spoke.
" On what errand would the French king cross the
Alps ? ' be asked. *' Seeks he not to harm my friends
the Saracens?'
"That is, indeed, his errand," answered Malagis.
" Then, why should I do aught to help him ? " asked
the goblin. " Why do you call me from my rest, and
bid me betray my friends ? "
"That is not for thee to ask," said Malagis. "I
have called thee as a master calls his slave, Tell me.
64 The Story of Roland.
now, and tell me truly, is there here any pass across
the mountains into Italy ? '
" There is such a pass," answered the goblin gravely ;
but it is hidden to eyes like mine. I cannot guide you
to it, nor can any of my kind show you how to find it
It is a pathway which only the pure can tread."
" Tell me one thing more," said Malagis. " Tell me
one thing, and I will let thee go. How prosper thy
friends the Saracens at Rome?*'
"They have taken all but the Capitol," was the
answer. " They have slain many Christians, and burned
many buildings. The pope and the cardinals have fled
to Spoleto. If Charlemagne reach not Italy within a
month, ill will it fare with his friends."
Then Malagis, satisfied with what he had heard, un-
wound the spell of his enchantments ; and amid a cloud
of fire and smoke the goblin flew back again into the
mountains.
And now the good Turpin came forward, with a cro
sier in bis hand, and a bishop's mitre on his head, and
a long white robe thrown over his shoulders, scarcely
hiding the steel armor which he wore beneath. And
he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and prayed. And the
sound of his voice arose among the cliffs, and resounded
among the rocks, and was echoed from valley to valley,
and re-echoed among the peaks and crags, and carried
over the mountain tops, even to the blue sky above,
And the king and those who stood about him fancied
that they heard sweet strains of music issuing from the
THE WHITE STAG.
How the Army crossed the Alps. 65
mountain caves ; and the most bewitching sounds arose
among the rocks and gorges ; and the air was filled with
a heavenly perfume and the songs of singing-birds ; and
a holy calm settled over mountain and valley, and fell
like a blessing upon the earth. Then the Alps no longer
seemed obstacles in their way. The steep cliffs, which
had been like mighty walls barring their progress, seemed
now mere gentle slopes, rising little by little toward
heaven, and affording a pleasant and easy highway to
the fair fields of Italy beyond.
While Charlemagne and his peers gazed in rapt de-
light upon this vision, there came down from the moun-
tain crags a beautiful creature such as none of them
had ever before seen. It was a noble stag, white as
the drifted snow, his head crowned with wide-branching
antlers, from every point of which bright sunbeams
seemed to flash.
"Behold our leader and our hope!' cried Turpin.
" Behold the sure-footed guide which the Wonder-king
has sent to lead us through narrow ways, and over dan-
gerous steeps, to the smiling valleys and fields of Italy I
Be only strong and trustful and believing, and a safe
way shall open for us, even where there seemed to be
ao way."
Then the vision faded slowly away from the sight of
the peers ; and the mountain walls rose up before them
as grim and steep as ever ; and the snow-crowned crags
looked down upon them even more angrily than before,
and there seemed no road nor pathway which the foot
66 The Story of Roland,
m\ !•!! tt» i— ••.•••••^^•^••••^••^^•.••^•••.•^••••^••••••••^^^^••^^^•^^••^^^••••••••••••••••••••^••••••••••••••••••••••^^•.•••i mm m .!!• i •••••^•j-v
of man could follow. But the wondrous white stag,
which had filled their minds with a new-born hope, still
stood in plain sight on the lowermost slopes of the
mountain.
The king, without once taking his eyes from the
Heaven-sent creature, mounted his war steed, and sound
ed the bugle which hung at his girdle ; and the great
army, confiding in the wisdom of their leader, began to
move. The white stag went first, steadily following
a narrow pathway, which led upward by many steep
ascents, seemingly to the very clouds ; and behind him
rode Charlemagne, keeping ever in view his radiant,
hopeful guide, and followed by the long line of knights
and warriors, who, cheered by his earnest faith, never
once feared the end. Higher and higher they climbed,
and more and more difficult became the way. On one
side of them arose a steep wall, shutting out from their
sight more than half of the sky : on the other side,
dark gorges and yawning gulfs descended, threatening
to bury the whole army in their bottomless depths
And by and by they came to the region of snow and
ice, where the Storm-king holds his court, and reigns in
everlasting solitude. And, looking back, they could see
sweet France, lying spread out as a map before them
its pleasant fields and its busy towns seeming only as
specks in the dim distance. But when they looked
forward, hoping there to see a like map of fair Italy,
only the rocks and the ice, and the narrow pathway,
and the desolate mountain crags, met their sight. At>d
How ike Army crossed the Alps.
they would have become disheartened by the difficulties
before them, and have turned back in utter despair, had
not the bright form of their guide, and the cheerful
countenance of Charlemagne, inspired them with ever-
renewed hope. For seven days they toiled among the
dangerous steeps ; and on the eighth a glorious vision
burst upon their view — the smiling plains of Italy lay
before them. At this sight a great shout of joy went
up from the throats of the toil-worn heroes, and the
good archbishop returned thanks to Heaven for their
deliverance from peril. And, a few hours later, the
whole army emerged into the pleasant valleys of Pied-
mont, and encamped not far from Aosta.
Very wonderful indeed had been this passage over
the Alps ; and, what was more wonderful still, not a
man, nor a beast, nor any part of the baggage, had
been lost. After he had rested and dined, the king
called before him his minstrels and jongleurs, and bade
them sing their merriest songs, and play their gayest
tunes on the harp, the viol, and the guitar. And the
heart of the king was softened by the sweet strains of
music, and by the feelings of thankfulness which filled
his soul ; and he felt no longer any malice toward those
who had done him wrong, nor any hatred toward his
enemies. Then one among the minstrels, an old man
who had been a bard among the Saxons, and who knew
all the lore of the North-folk, tuned his harp, and sang
a song of the old Pagan days, and of the bold, free life
of the Danish sea-kings.
68 7*ke Story of Rolavid.
When the minstrel ceased, the king, who had been
strangely touched by the lively melody, looked around
upon his peers, and asked, —
" Is there not with us a young Danish prince, one
Ogier, the son of the rebel Godfrey? Methinks that
he, too, can make fine music on the harp."
" My lord," answered Duke Namon, " the young man,
as you doubtless remembert is for-hostaged ; and he is
now a prisoner in charge of Duke Ganelon."
" Let him be brought hither," said the king.
A few minutes later, Ogier, erect and proud, and as
fearless as a young lion, was led into the presence of
Charlemagne and the peers ; and by his side walked his
brother-in-arms, young Roland. He took the harp from
the minstrel's hands ; and, as his fingers swept lightly
over the strings, he sang a song that he had learned in
his father's court in Denmark. And all who heard him
agreed that they had never listened to sweeter music.
" Young man," said the king, " thou singest well I
would fain reward thee, and hence I grant thee a re-
prieve. I give thee thy life until we again return to
France."
Then Roland, as the nephew of the king, boldly
begged that he would grant a full pardon to Ogier.
But he would not. Never, said he, should feelings of
pity turn him aside from the path of justice. Should
he spare the life of one person for-hostaged, the value
of hostages as pledges of good faith would no longer
be regarded. Then Duke Namon asked the king, that
How the Army crossed the Alps. 69
as a personal favor, he would allow Ogier to remain
with him during the rest of the march : he wished him
to care for his nephew, a noble knight who was in his
train, and was sick. To this request the king readily
assented, and Ogier was re-instated in the service of
his former loved master. And Roland and the othfci
squires with Duke Namon, welcomed him most heartily
to his old place of honor among thesn.
The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE, VIL
KNIGHTED ON THE BATTLEFIELD.
SCARCELY had the array rested from the fatigues of
the march across the Alps, when messengers came the
third time from the pope, praying Charlemagne to
hasten his coming, "The heathen triumph! The
Christians arc put to the sword ! The Holy Father
charges thee as the champion of Christendom to come
quickly to his aid I ' At once the camp at Aosta was
broken up, and the great host advanced by hasty
marches on towards Rome. And Roland and Ogier
the Dane rode side by side, and lamented that they
were not yet armed knights, and could not take any
active part in the battle which was soon to be fought.
"I have not long to live," said Ogier; "and the heavi-
est thought that weighs upon my mind is, that I shaL
die without having distinguished myself in arms, and
without having done aught for the glory of the king or
the honor of knighthood."
" It shall not be," answered Roland. " You shall not
die thus early and thus shamefully. I will again inter-
cede with my uncle the king, and I will save you. And
Knighted on the Battlefield. 71
ere many years we both shall be knights, armed and
belted and spurred, brothers-in-arms and peers of the
king, worthy to do our part in battle with the unbeliev-
ers, and in all honorable undertakings."
The French arrived at Sutri. Roland saw with pleas-
are the familiar haunts of his boyhood. He pointed
out to Ogier the rocky cleft on the hilltop, where, years
before, he had watched for the coming of Charlemagne's
host. And, when the old castle came in view, many
memories, pleasant and painful, rushed into his mind.
Oliver's father, Count Rainier, had long ago removed to
Genoa, and the place was now held by strangers ; nor
did Roland see a single face in the town that he remem-
bered as having known in the days of his childhood.
A short distance beyond Sutri, they met the Pagan
host who had come out of Rome to give them battle,
Charlemagne decided to attack them at once. Duke
Namon, as the worthiest of the peers, led the vanguard
of the French ; but Roland and Ogier staid in the rear
with the other squires, much grieving that it was not
allowed them to bear arms, and that they could take
only the part of lookers-on in this great contest The
golden standard of the king, the sacred Oriflamme, was
carried by one Alory, who claimed it as the right of an
Italian ; he being a native of Apulia.
Roland and Ogier climbed a hill in order the better
to view the fight. Duke Namon, with the bravest
knights of France and their Italian allies, follower! the
standard to the attack. At the first assault the Pagans
72 The Story of Roland.
were worsted ; «,ney seemed to fall back in confusion,
and Duke Namon pressed upon them right valiantly
Then the foe rallied again ; they stood stubbornly ; they
rushed savagely upon the bearers of the golden stand
ard. Alory and his cowardly companions from Lorn-
bardy were frightened : they had not the fearless hearts
which are born of Northern blood. They turned, and
fied for their lives. Full of joy now were the Pagans
to see the Oriflamme in flight : full of shame and bewil-
derment were the French, In vain did Duke Namon
strive to turn the tide : he was hemmed in by giant foes
on every side. He fought manfully, but against such
odds, that he was soon taken prisoner. Many other
knights, the bravest among the French, were over-
powered. Charlemagne himself was hard beset. His
lance failed him, he was unhorsed ; and yet most val-
iantly did he defend himself.
Roland and the Dane could no longer hold themselves
aloof. They saw Alory and his coward Lombards com-
ing up the hill in shameful flight. They called the
squires around them, and urged them to rally to ths fray
like heroes.
" But how shall we fight without arms ? ' .asked the
faint-hearted.
" Fight with whatever comes to hand ! " cried Roland
" A sharpened stake wielded by a brave man is better
than a lance in the hands of a coward. Let us die here
for the king and for France rather than turn our backs
to the foe."
Knighted on the Battlefield. 73
Alory and his Lombards were now very near.
" Believe me," cried Ogier, " if God have part or
parcel in this day's work, these cowards shall take hence
neither horse nor arms ! '
" Shame be on any that shall fail thee ! ' answered
the squires.
As Alory rode up, they seized his horse by the bits :
they stopped him in his shameful flight.
" Have you lost the day ? ' asked Ogier.
" Where is the king ? ' asked Roland. " Where is
Duke Namon ? How have you left the French ? '
" The king is taken," answered Alory. " The infidels
hold the field. The French are slain."
" Thou liest ! ' cried the squires. " Had ye not failed
in battle, all would have been well."
Without another word, Ogier felled Alory with a blow
of his fist, for arms had he none. The other squires
followed his example, and dragged the craven Lombards
from their saddles, They despoiled them of their
armor, they seized their arms, and mounted their steeds.
Ogier took the golden standard in his hands ; the golden
cords fluttered around his wrists ; the charger which he
bestrode champed the bit, impatient to return to the
ield.
" Follow me, ye who are not cowards ! ' he cried.
The squires hastily formed in ranks, ready for the
onset He who could find no lance was content with a
sharpened stake, with the splintered branch of an apple
tree or an ash. Very eager was every one for the
74 The Story of Roland.
fray. They tore their clothing into shreds with which
to nmke pennons : they cared little for shields or war
coats.
By this time Charlemagne had freed himself from the
Pagans who beset him, and had again mounted his war
horse. Only a hundred knights were left with him now {
all the others had been slain, or taken prisoners, or had
sought safety in flight But the king would not leave
the field. The Pagans were already gloating over their
victory. They were thinking of the day when they
should see the Christian knights eaten by lions in the
arena at Rome : they did not dream of any danger.
Suddenly Ogier and Roland and the troop of squires
swept down upon them like a whirlwind upon a field
of growing corn. Never were Pagan folk so taken by
surprise. Roland attacked the chief who held Duke
Namon prisoner : he split his shield in twain, and burst
his coat-of-niail asunder. The French knights were all
set free. The squires hastily donned the armor of the
slain Saracens, and followed in swift pursuit their panic-
stricken foes. Never was rout more unexpected 01
more complete.
In the mean while Charlemagne, seeing the flight of
the enemy, stopped not to learn the cause, but followed
recklessly in their wake. His hauberk was broken, and
his shield was pierced with many lance-thrusts ; but hie
good sword Joyeuse was in his hand, a very terror to
his foes He sees Corsuble, the Saracen king, flying
over the plain, and, unraindful of danger, he gives pur
Knighted on the Battlefield. 75
suit A moment more, and Corsuble's head will roll in
the sand But no! Two Pagan knights, very giants
in stature, rush to the rescue. Charlemagne's horse is
slain beneath him, and he himself is stretched helpless
upon the ground. And now the Saracens, content with
having rescued their own chief, and anxious to save
themselves, would have ridden onward, had not the.
golden eagle on Charlemagne's casque betrayed his rank
They hesitated It would never do, they thought, tc
leave the deed but half done. Hastily they dismounted
to give the fallen king his death-blow. Never had his
life been in so great peril. But Ogier had seen him fail,
and he rushed with the speed of a falcon to his aid.
The golden standard which the young squire held in his
hands hindered him from drawing his sword ; and one
would have thought him but a poor match for the two
well-armed Saracens. But he came so swiftly, that he
was upon them ere they were aware. One of them was
ridden down by his horse, and rolled ingloriously in the
sand : the other received such a stunning blow with
the staff of the Oriflamme, that he fell senseless to the
ground Then Ogier helped the king to disentangle
himself from his fallen steed, and saw him safely mounted
on the horse of one of the Saracens.
"Ah, Alory, thou brave knight ! ' said Charlemagne,
not recognizing the squire in disguise, " I have blamed
thee wrongfully. I thought that I saw thee flying dis-
gracefully from the field But I was wrong, and thou
shalt be rewarded for thy bravery."
The Story of Roland.
Ogier said not a word, but, giving spurs to his
steed, he rode onward in eager pursuit of the flying
foe,
Complete was the defeat of the Saracens : in greal
haste and fear they retreated to Rome, and left the
French the masters of the field. Then Charlemagne
blew his bugle, and called around him his peers and the
knights whom the battle had spared. And the good
Turpin laid aside his helmet and his sword, and putting
his mitre on his head, and holding a crosier in his hand,
he sang the solemn " Tt Deum Laudamus ; "' and all the
mighty host joined in praising God. While they were
yet singing, Ogier the Dane came humbly forward, and
laid the Oriflamme, all torn, and covered with dust, at
Charlemagne's feet And with him came Roland and
the other squires, walking awkwardly in their misfit
armor ; and all knelt reverently before the king. And
Charlemagne spoke kindly to them, and again thanked
Ogier for his bravery, again calling him Alory. And
the archbishop held his hands above them, and blessed
them. Then young Roland, bursting with impatience,
threw off his helmet and Ogier's ; and the other squires
laid aside their armor. Great was the astonishment of
the king and his knights when they learned that the
day had been won, and their own lives and honor saved,
through the valor of mere squires. And the king folded
Ogier in his arms, and thanked Heaven that he had not
hanged him last Easter. And Duke Namon, with tears
of joy in his eyes, embraced both the young men, and
Knighted on the Battlefield. 77
called down the choicest blessings on their heads for
the honor which they had done him by that day's gal-
lant deeds and the signal service which they had ren-
dered the cause of Christendom.
Then, turning to Charlemagne, he asked, " What is
to hinder, my lord, from investing these young men
with the honors of knighthood ? '
" They richly deserve it," answered the king. " Let
us make ready at once for the ceremonies. Such valor
must not long be unrewarded."
Great was the rejoicing now among the French ; for
all the knights knew Roland and Ogier, and loved them.
Only two — Ganelon of Mayence, and Chariot the son
of the king, their hearts burning with jealousy and un-
reasoning hate — stood aside, and would not join in the
general gratulations. When every thing was in readi-
ness, the young men again knelt before the king. The
good archbishop, after a solemn service, spoke briefly
of the duties of the knight, and warned them of the
difficulties and temptations in their way. Then, taking
the swords which had been prepared for them, he
blessed them, and laid them upon the rude altar which
had been hastily built for the occasion. When this had
been done, the king stepped forward, sword in hand,
and, smiting each of them three times upon the shoul-
der, he said, "In the name of God and St. Michael I
dub thee knight : be valiant, loyal, and true ! ' Then
the peers who stood about arrayed them in the knightly
garb which had been brought for them. Duke Namon,
7 8 Tke Story of Roland.
who had been the guardian and most faithful friend oi
both Roland and Ogier, laced their golden spurs upon
their ankles. Turpin blessed their white armor, and in-
vested each in his coat of mail. Duke Richard of
Normandy buckled on their breastplates ; and Guy of
Bourgogne presented them the arm-pieces and the
gauntlets. Then came Charlemagne with the swords
which he had taken from the altar. To Ogier he gave
a plain steel blade bearing the inscription, WEAR
ME UNTIL YOU FIND A BETTER. But to his nephew
Roland he gave a wondrous weapon with jewelled hilt,
and a fire-edge gleaming like the lightning's glare.
And Roland, as he took it, read these words, engraved
with many a fair device upt/n the blade, I AM DURAN-
DAL, WHICH TROJAN HECTOR WORE.
The oath of chivalry was now taken by the new-made
knights. Each swore that he would be faithful to God?
and loyal to the king ; that he would reverence all
women ; that he would ever be mindful of the poor
and the helpless ; that he would never engage in an
unrighteoas war ; that he would never seek to exalt
himself to the injury of others; that he would speak
the truth, and love mercy, and deal justly with all men.
And Charlemagne blessed them, and promised to love
them as his sons ; and they, in turn, vowed to love and
honor him as their father in knighthood. And then,
having donned their helmets, they mounted their steeds,
which stood in readiness, and rode away
knights.
Knighted on tlu Battlefield. 79
The next morning, as Charlemagne rested in his tent,
be bethought him of the shameful conduct of Alory.
" Where now," said he, " is the cowardly Apulian
who so nearly ruined our cause yesterday ? "
" My lord," answered Duke Namon, " he was sorely
bruised by the blow with which the Dane hurled him
from his saddle. This, together with fear ani shame,
has made him hide himself from th* sight of all true
knights."
"Let him be found/' said the king, "and let meet
punishment be awarded him for his treason and his
cowardice."
Not long afterwaid Alory, having been dragged from
his hiding-place, was brought into the presence of the
king. When asked to plead his excuse for his craven
conduct, he was dumb : he could say nothing in his
own defence. Then the peers adjudged him disherited,
and forbade him ever again to show his face in the
king's court, or ever again to mingle in the company of
true knights. But Roland and Ogier, when they heard
the sentence, begged leave to speak in his favor.
" It is not the part of a freeman," said they, " to take
pains to forjudge his peer ; nor should he deal harshly
or unmercifully with another's weaknesses. If all who
flee from battle were disherited, greatly thinned would
be our ranks. If a man has been gifted with the heart
of a hare, he cannot exchange it for that of a lion.
Lombards know not how to carry the Oriflamme of
France, neither have they business to meddle witb
So Tke Story of Roland.
great battles. We pray that Alory be forgiven, and
that he be not intrusted again with duties too great for
him.'1
Well pleased were the peers with these sensible
words of the new-made knights ; and they freely for-
gave the craven-hearted Apulian, not for his own sake*
for the sake of Roland and Ogier the Dane.1
7 at tiae «ad *f ttes
How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 81
ADVENTURE VIII.
HOW OGIER WON SWORD AND HORSE,
ON the banks of the Tiber, not more than a league
from the city of Rome, the French encamped, and
waited for the Saracens to sally out and attack them.
But the Pagans were too wise to risk another battle in
the open field. They had ravaged and laid waste all
the country around ; they had harvested the corn, and
carried the grain into the city ; they had cut down the
vineyards and the orchards ; they had seized all the
cattle, and driven them within the walls ; they had
stored away great supplies of provisions, and made
ready for a long siege. The Franks, on the other hand,
never having thought but that they could support them-
selves by foraging, were without food. They were in
no condition to carry on a siege against an enemy so
arelx provided. The king was in great trouble. He
saw clearly, that, unless he could strike a decisive blow
rery soon, hunger — a foe stronger than the Pagan
horde — would force him to withdraw. Many of his
fighting men, too, had lost the enthusiasm which they
bad felt while the enemy were still at a distance. They
82 The Story of Roland.
began to complain of being kept so long away from
their homes and from France ; and some of the weaker
minded knights, led by the crafty Ganelon, had gone so
far as to plot rebellion, and were planning secretly how
they might betray Charlemagne, and leave fair Italy IE
the bands of the Saracens. It was plain to every onet
that unless the Pagans could be persuaded to come out
from behind the walls, and risk another open battle, the
Franks would soon find themselves in desperate straits,
and be obliged to give up their undertaking.
While Charlemagne and his peers paused, and con-
sidered what it was best to do, young Chariot, the rash
and foolish son of the king, was trying to carry out a
plan of his own. With two thousand young men, hot-
headed and hare-brained like himself, he had secretly
left the camp at nightfall, and marched toward the city,
intending by a bold dash upon the enemy to carry
succor to the Christian garrison who still held the Capi-
toline Fortress. But the watchful Saracens were not to
be caught napping. As the young prince and his men
cantered carelessly along the highroad, thinking how on
the morrow the whole world would ring with the praises
of their daring, they did not know that Chief Karaheut,
the bravest of the Pagan leaders, with five thousand
picked men, was waiting in ambush for them. All at
once, like so many fierce tigers, the Pagans rushed out
upon the unsuspecting and unready band of Chariot.
Short would have been the fight, and mournful would
have been the end, had not the sound of the first onse*
How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 83
reached the tent where Charlemagne and his peers sat
in council. The air resounded with the yells of the
exultant foe and the din and crash of arms. Quickly
were Roland and Ogier and their brave comrades in the
saddle. Very swiftly did they ride to the rescue. Chief
Karaheut, when he saw them coming, called off his men,
and withdrew in order toward Rome ; and Chariot,
crestfallen and ashamed, with the remnant of his band,
rode back to the Christian camp. Very angry was
Charlemagne at the unwise conduct of his son : furious
was he that the Pagans had won the right to say that
they had worsted any part of his host in battle. Scarce-
ly could his barons hinder him from striking the fool-
hardy Chariot with his mace. But Roland, whose words
always had great weight with the king, persuaded him
to forget his anger. It was not the French who had
been worsted in the late fight : it was only a band of
rash young men, irresponsible, and unworthy of atten-
tion. Not many suns should rise ere the boastful Sara-
cens should know the true strength, and feel the full
force, of the Christian arm.
The next day, about noon, as the king sat in his
master-tent, with all his peers around him, it wai
announced that a messenger had come from Corsuble,
the Saracen king. It was Chief Karaheut himself.
He came to Charlemagne's camp, riding on a mule, and
accompanied only by two squires. He was unarmed,
and very richly dressed. A turban of red satin embroi-
dered with gold was upon his head; a gold-buttoned
64 The Story of Roland,
mantle of purple silk was thrown over his shoulders ;
around his neck was a collar of rich ermine. Right
nobly sat he on his mule ; right royally did he salute
the king.
" In the name of all that the Franks hold dear/' he
add, "I greet great Charlemagne. I greet, too, th€
knights and barons who sit beside him ; but above them
all I greet Ogier the brave Dane."
The king and his peers heard this greeting in silence ;
but, when the name of Ogier was mentioned, the jeal-
ousy of young Chariot waxed so great, that he could
scarcely hold his tongue.
" Who are you ? " asked Charlemagne ; " and what is
your errand ? '
" I am Karaheut," answered the Saracen proudly
" I am the bearer of a message from great Corsuble, the
king of the faithful. He bids you leave him in peace
ful possession of this city of Rome which he has taken
in honorable war, and which is his more than your*.
Ten days he will give you to take your army and all
that is yours out of Italy. If you go not, then he will
meet you in battle, and will spare you not ; neithei
will he have mercy upon any who hold the name of
Christian."
" Never have I turned my back upon unbelievers,"
haughtily answered the king. " We are ready for fight
Tell your master that we fear not the issue. God will
be the judge betwixt us."
Chief Karaheut bowed courteously. "Yes, surely,"
How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 85
said he, "God will be the judge. But why risk the
lives of so many worthy men ? Were it not better to
settle the matter without so much bloodshed ? If you
will not withdraw peaceably, King Corsuble allows me
to make this offer to you. Let the bravest man among
you meet me in single combat, and let the issue of that
fight decide who shall be the master of Italy. If I con-
quer, Rome shall be ours, and you shall return at once
across the Alps. If I am beaten, the hosts of the faith-
ful will at once embark, and sail back to their old homes
beyond the sea, leaving you in Rome."
"That seems a fair offer," said Charlemagne, "and
right willingly do we accept ; for we like not to spill
blood unnecessarily. Choose you now the bravest man
among us, and let the issue be left in the hands of
God"
Karaheut, without more ado, pulled off his glove, and
cast it down at the feet of the Dane. Ogier at once
stood up, and accepted the challenge. But Chariot,
ever foolish and ever vain, took him by the arm, and
drew him aside.
"Ogier," whispered he, but so loudly that he wa?
heard by the bystanders, " Ogier, it is very unwise foi
you, a mere boy, thus to accept the gauntlet of battle?
while your betters are passed by without notice. Your
place is in Denmark, dressing leather and pressing
cheese, and not in company with the heroes of France,
And, if I forget not, your father still owes fourpence
of tribute to Charlemagne, and your head has been
86 The Story of Roland.
pledged as security. The Saracen's glove was not in-
tended for such as you. Stand aside, and I will do
the battle/'
Chief Karaheut's anger waxed very hot, for he de
spised the base-hearted Chariot. " Great king," criec
he, " methinks you have little to do to let your son thug
browbeat and insult your barons before your face."
"The Pagan speaks wisely," said Duke Namon ; and
all the knights, save Ganelon, assented. " For you we
left our pleasant homes, our loving wives, our children,
our lands, and our fiefs ; and now your son openly in-
sults us. Were it not for fear of breaking our knightly
vows, and being guilty of unfaith toward God, we would
turn our faces at once toward France."
Charlemagne saw the justice of these complaints ;
and, turning to Chariot, he reproved him harshly for his
disrespect to Ogier and the barons. But the shallow-
pated prince excused himself, and still insisted on fight-
ing the Saracen — if not Karaheut, then some othei
Pagan warrior of rank equal to himself. He wished to
make amends for last night's disgraceful mistake. In
th^. end it was agreed that there should be two com-
batants on each side, that Ogier should fight with Kara-
heut, and that Chariot should have for his opponent
Prince Sadone, the son of the Saracen king. It was
further arranged, that the combat should take place on
the morrow, in a grassy meadow near the banks of the
Tiber, and that the fighting should be with swords
on foot Then Karaheut rode back again to Rome,
How Ogier won Suord and Horse. 87
The next day, at the rising of the sun, Ogier and
Chariot mounted their steeds, and rode away toward
the place that had been appointed for the combat.
With great care had they armed themselves. Chariot
wore at his side his father's own sword, the trenchant
blade Joyeuse, with the carved hilt of gold ; and his
coat-of-mail was of the truest steel. The Dane, too,
was well equipped, but only as a common knight ; and
the sword which he carried was that which the kinf
had given him on investing him with knighthood.
Chief Karaheut and young Sadone already waited for
them at the meadow Most royally were the Pagans
armed. Karaheut's shield was of steel inlaid with gold
and engraved with many strange devices and many
words of mystic meaning. On the rim of his helmet
burned five gem stones, bright as little suns, or as
torches in the darkness of the night. By his side hung
the world-famous sword called "Short." This sword
was the work of a giant smith named Brumadant, and,
next to Joyeuse and Durandal, was the best that had
aver been wrought Twenty times over had Brumadant
melted and welded this blade ; and he had tempered it
n the blood of dragons and at the forge-fires of the
elves. When he had finished it, he tried it upon a block
of marble. The huge stone was split asunder from end
to end : but, in drawing out the sword, a palm's length
of the blade was broken off ; and this is why it was
always called " Short." And Karaheut prized it above
every thing else, for it was a very terror to all his
88 The Story of Roland.
Sadone was equipped, as became a king's son, fair and
courteously : his helmet sparkled with jewels, and his
breastplate and shield were of the brightest polished
steel. His sword was a famous blade that had been
brought from the North. Men said that it had been
wrought by Wayland, the master-smith of the Saxons,
and that it had been worn by many of the doughtiest
heroes of the Northland.
Together the four knights rode across the meadow,
choosing a fit place for the combat. They chatted
together pleasantly, as friends long-tried and true, rather
than as foes making ready to meet each other in deadly
fight. Having reached a smooth, grassy knoll, Ogier
and Karaheut dismounted ; and while their steeds wan-
dered about over the green, cropping the grass and the
rich herbage, they began to make ready for the duel.
But Chariot and Sadone, not altogether pleased with
this spot, rode onward, seeking a better. Suddenly,
from the wood, thirty Pagan horsemen swept down upon
them : they were men whom Corsuble had treacherously
hidden there in order to seize the Christian knights.
Karaheut was the first to see them, and he cried out
to the Dane to defend himself. Chariot put spurs to
his horse, and galloped with all speed back to Charle-
magne's camp. But Ogier, on foot, and armed only
with his sword, was no match for so many horsemen.
Valiantly for a time, however, did he defend himself,
and more than one stout Saracen was unhorsed. Yet
soon his sword was broken, and he was forced to yield
Haw Ogier won Sword and Horse. 89
himself a prisoner ; and, before Charlemagne could send
him aid, the treacherous Pagans had carried him t©
Rome, and taken him into the presence of their king.
In King Corsuble's garden, beneath an olive tree,
they stripped the Danish hero of his armor. Turks
and Persians crowded around to see him, as if he were
some wild beast of the desert. Some were for putting
him to death at once. Others cried out, "Fie, for
shame 1 Let him go back to his own folk I Never
should it be said that we deal thus treacherously with
our foes." Chief Karaheut begged the king to set him
free.
" It is a dishonor to our religion," said he, " thus to
break our plighted faith with the Christians. It is con-
trary to all the laws of knighthood."
"I hold no faith with the Christian dogs," angrily
answered the king. " My own will is higher than all
the laws of chivalry. It is to this vile Dane that we
owe our defeat of the other day, To-morrow he shall
be hanged in the sight of all our people,"
When Karaheut heard this answer, he went away in
great grief and anger, declaring that never would he
allow so base and dishonorable a deed to be done. And
he called his men together, and bade them be ready on
the morrow to rebel against the king, who had shown
himself unworthy of their fealty.
And now Glorianda, the daughter of King Corsuble-
came down the garden walk to see the peerless young
hero of the North. Very handsome was the
90 The Story of Roland.
— straight of body, and fair of face. Well clad was she
in the costly cloth of Greece, with a tunic of purple
embroidered with gold, and over it a silken mantle. On
her feet she wore narrow shoes of Cordova, colored and
adorned with Moorish gold. Hot shone the sun ; and
instead of a wimple she wore a jaunty hat on her head.
Blue were her eyes ; her mouth was small, and sweet as
a babe's. A fair barbarian was she, — so fair, that no
man on earth could be tired of seeing her, even if he
gazed forever. When she saw the hero Dane, so comely
and tall and strong, and heard that he was doomed to
die a felon's death on the morrow, she was very sad.
And she prayed her father to spare his life. But King
Corsuble's heart was harder than flint.
" Say not a word ! ' he cried. " I have vowed that
the dog shall die, and so it shall be."'
The next morning, at break of day, Chief Karaheut
went again into the presence of Corsuble to beg him
to have mercy on Ogier. But the king was furious, and
more determined than ever.
14 He shall live until the setting of this day's sun,"
said he, " but not a moment longer. And, if you dare
speak to me again in his favor, you shall hang with
him."
Then Karaheut went out of the palace, and mounted
his steed, and galloped with all haste out of the city
and past the guards, who dared not question him, and
stopped not until he reached the Christian camp, and
stood once more in front of Charlemagne's master-tent
How Ogier won Sword and Horse. 91
"Great king," said he, "hearken to me ! I have coma
to yield myself your prisoner. You shall not say that
I have betrayed you, or that I have been false to my
word. I am here for you to deal with me even as
iny own people shall deal with Ogier."
The knights and barons were filled with wonder.
" Here, indeed, is a gentle Pagan ! ' cried they,
" By my troth, he is the worthiest of heroes ! ' said
Charlemagne. " Never have I seen a truer knight, nor
one more loyal, or more perfect in every knightly virtue."
The day began to wane. The sun was sloping far
toward the west. Ogier, in his prison cell, had well-
nigh given up all hope of escape. Suddenly he heard
a great uproar in the street below, — the sound of tramp-
ing feet and of lusty cheers. He peered out through
the grating of his window, and saw that the noise was
made by a company of strange Pagans marching toward
the king's palace. They were travel-stained, and seem-
ingly weary with long journeying, and were dressed in
a garb different from any that Ogier had ever seen. He
asked his jailer who these strange people were, and
was told that they were the bravest warriors of all
Paynimry, just come from India to the succor of King
Corsuble.
"And who is the black giant who rides before theirs
on that wondrous horse ? ' asked Ogier.
" That is Brunamont, the King of Maiolgre, the great
island of the sea," answered the jailer ; " and the horse
which he bestrides is the famed steed Broiefort"
92 The Story of Roland.
' Never saw I a nobler charger," said Ogier. " Me*
thinks I would rather own him than be master of a
city/'
Great was King Corsuble's delight at the timely com-
ing of his allies ; and he quite forgot that the Danish
hero lay in his prison tower, awaiting his doom. He
thought only of how he might best welcome and enter-
tain the giant king of Maiolgre. So he made a great
feast in his palace hall ; and all the noblest of his
warriors, save Karaheut, were there. And Brunamont,
hideously ugly and black, sat in the seat of honor by
his side. And the wine went freely round, and both
king and guests were very merry.
" Ah, my sweet friend ! ' said Corsuble, embracing
the giant : " thou hast come in the very nick of time.
The Franks are now at our mercy, and we shall soon
drive them out of Italy. Then it will be an easy matter
to cross the mountains after them, and drive them out
of France also. And thou, dear Brunamont, shalt not
go unrewarded. Thou shalt have France for thy por-
tion, and thou shalt be my son-in-law. Here is my
daughter Glorianda, the peerless pearl of Paynimry:
she shall be thy wife. — Arise, Glorianda, and salute
thy future husband I "
Glorianda arose, as she was bidden ; but she had no
word of salutation for the grim king of Maiolgre.
" My lord/5 said she to Corsuble, her father, " it is not
the custom for a maiden who is betrothed to one prince
to be given to another, and that without her consent
How Ogier won Sword and Horse, 93
You know that I am plighted already to Chief Karaheutj
and T will be the wife of none other."
" Ha ! ' cried the king half -merrily, half -angrily.
" When did it become the custom among us for a maiden
to choose whom she would marry ? Karaheut is a
traitor. And who is there here to hinder me from
giving thee to whomsoever I please ? '
" If Karaheut were only here, he would save me,"
said Glorianda. Then she bethought her of Ogier the
Dane, lying in prison, and doomed to death ; and she
went on, " but he is not here, and I have no champion.
Nevertheless, there is that young Christian whom you
have in jail, who I am sure will' take the place of the
absent Karaheut, and defend me against this injustice.
Let him be my champion ; and, if Brunamont overcome
him in fair combat, then I will submit"
King Corsuble was pleased with this proposal ; and
the swarthy Brunamont, who had never been beaten in
battle, was only too glad to show his prowess by con-
tending in single combat with the pale-faced Northman.
When word was brought to Ogier in prison, that he
had been chosen as the champion of the Princess Glo-
rianda, he was highly pleased. " I would rather die,
fighting the. Pagan monster with my fists," said he,
" than suffer the disgraceful punishment of a felon."
And he sent one of Karaheut's squires to bear the
news to his friends in the Christian camp. When
Karaheut heard that the Dane was to fight in his place
against the giant Brunamont, he begged Charlemagne
94 The Story of Roland.
to allow him to go and see the combat ; and he pledged
himself, that, in case Ogier should not gain his freedom,
he would come back, and again yield himself prisoner.
Charlemagne consented ; and Karaheut lost no time in
returning to the city. There he armed the Dane in his
own armor, and gave him as a present the noble sword
Short, — the blade which Ogier both desired and feared
more than all things else on earth.
"Take this sword," said he, "and it shall prove a
firm friend to thee. If thou dost but conquer in this
battle, it shall be thy reward."
Very thankful was Ogier ; and his heart grew big
with hope as he took the jewelled hilt in his hand, and
read the inscription on the blade, I AM CORTANA THE
SHORT. HE WHO HAS THE RIGHT ON HIS SIDE NEED
NOT FEAR THE MIGHT OF THE WRONG-DOER.
The place appointed for the combat was a treeless
island in the middle of the River Tiber. The banks on
either side were lined with thousands of men from both
armies, anxious to witness the fray. Ogier was the first
to take his place. His friends on the farther bank of
the river feared greatly the result of the combat They
felt, that, however bravely he might fight, his strength
would be no match for that of the grim giant who had
already overcome and slain more than twenty valiant
kings. They had not learned that skill is stronger in the
end than mere brute force. They beckoned to Ogier to
throw himself into the river, and swim across *"O them-
How Ogier wox Sword and Horse. 95
"Ogier," they cried, "come to the host ! It is your
only chance of escape. Save your life while you may."
But Ogier shook his head.
" Not for a whole valley full of gold," said he, " would
I do a deed so cowardly ! '
And now came Brunamont to the combat, riding the
famed steed Broiefort. How Ogier longed to have that
noble animal for his own ! Never had there been a
more goodly horse. Black as midnight was he, with
a silver star in the middle of his forehead ; and men
said that he could climb the steepest mountain wl/kout
tiring, or run three whole days without panting or
stopping.
" Great Father," said Ogier, raising his ha ,vds to
heaven, " thou who didst form all the world, if i please
thee, give me the victory to-day ! '
But his thoughts were on the horse.
Brunamont dismounted, and with long strL/es ad
vanced toward Ogier. Scornfully he laughed at his
foe ; and he brandished his sword about his head, and
thought to make quick work of this combat. But sad
was his mistake. The good blade Short leaped sud
&enly out of its scabbard, and the light of its gleaning
edge flashed hither and thither like the play of 'h^
lightning in the summer's cloud. The first strokt cut
the sword of Brunamont in twain, and left the giant
but half armed. The second stroke cleaved hi > iron
helmet ; and, although it missed his brain, it shea/ed ofi
bis left ear, and laid the whole side of his fac* bare
96 The Story of Roland,
Brunamont, who had never before felt fear, waited not
for the third stroke. He turned and fled, thinking anty
of how he might save his life. He leaped into the
river, hoping to swim across to his Pagan friends ; but
the current was deep and swift, and his heavy armor
dragged him down, and the waters soon made for b*m
a grave.
Ogier took to himself the horse Broiefort, for he
considered that he had fairly won him ; and there was
nought that now is or ever was that he coveted so
much. Charlemagne at once led his army across the
river, and attacked the asJtonished and disappointed
Saracens. Great was the rout of the unbelievers ; and
many of their bravest warriors were slain, or taken
prisoners. And on the morrow King Corsuble, de-
feated and crestfallen, withdrew from Rome, and with
ais whole army embarked, and set sail across the sea,
And Charlemagne, after seeing the pope happily re
stored to his place, returned to France.
Roland's Arms. 97
ADVENTURE IX.
ROLAND'S ARMS.
ROLAND had now come to the years of manhood.
Among all the knights and warriors in Charlemagne's
court he was accounted the best. Save only Ogier the
Dane, he excelled them all in every deed and feat of
arms, in knightly courtesy, in respect for authority, in
kind consideration for the poor and friendless. And
every one, except Prince Chariot and Ganelon of May-
ence, praised and loved him ; for he was indeed a knight
without fear and without reproach.
Great ca-e was taken by Charlemagne to provide
armor for his nephew, fitting for one who was destined
to be a hero. From the tar south a helmet was brought,
— a wondrous casque most wondrously wrought. Men
said that it was the handiwork of Vulcan, the lame
blacksmith of the golden age, — the age when the gods
still lived, and mingled with mankind. It was made of
steel, inlaid with gold and pearls, and bound around
with brass. It was engraved, inside and outside, with
strange mottoes and battle-scenes, and legends of
knightly valor. Above its crest waved an
The Story of Roland.
piume, and in front sat a golden eagle. Only two such
helmets did Vulcan make, — one for Trojan Hector,
the godlike hero of that ancient day; and the other
for the noblest knight of later times.
The war coat which Roland wore had been brought
from the far North, and was such as the men of France
had never before seen. They said that it was the work
of Wayland, the master-smith of the Teuton folk. So
curiously had it been wrought, and so rare was the tem-
per of its steel, that no thrust of lance, nor stroke of
sword, could harm him whom it incased. The metal of
which it was made had been digged from the earth
by the cunning dwarf -folk, who lived in the hill caves of
the North while yet the race of men-folk was young.
It had been smelted in the mountain furnaces of the
giants. Twelve months had Wayland worked day and
night at his forge, beating it into shape, and tempering
it, as he only knew how. And, when he had finished it,
he had given it to Beowulf, the Anglo-Saxon hero, the
slayer of the monster Grendel and of the fire-breathing
dragon of the North. When or how it had been
brought to France, I know not. But, when Roland first
donned it, it is said that men whispered among them-
selves, and said, " What need has he of such rare
armor ? Better give it tc some one whose body is not
already proof against harm." For it was believed that
Roland bore a charmed life, and that like Achilles o£
old, and like Siegfried, no weapon could touch or harm
Him save in a single small spot of his body, — - some said
Roland's Arms. 99
midway between his shoulders ; others said on the bot-
toms of his feet
The arms which our hero bore were in every way
equal to the armor which protected him. His shield
was of three plates of steel, copper, and gold, bound
together with bolts of brass ; and on it were emblazoned
the quarteri ngs of red and white, — the armorial bear-
ings by which he was distinguished. His -favorite lance
was a mountain ash, weighty and tough, a very beam in
length, and so heavy, that none but Roland, or Ogier the
Dane, could poise it. The golden spurs which he wore
as the sign of his knighthood had been given him by
Morgan the Fay, the fairy queen of Avalon ; and I have
been told that they were the same that had been worn
by the famed King Arthur when he and his knights of
the round table lived amongst men.
But the sword which Roland carried at his side was
the noblest piece of all. The world had never seen a
more wonderful blade than Durandal. Not Siegfried's
Balmung, nor King Arthur's Excalibur, nor Charle-
magne's Joyeuse, nor Ogier's Short, could be compared
with it in beauty and true worth. It was the sword
which Hector, the mighty prince of Troy, had wielded
50 valiantly in battle with the Greeks. From Vulcan's
fotge it had come, where the lame smith ^od had tem-
pered it in the flames of Tartarus. Neither wood, nor
stone, nor any metal, could turn its razor edge : no war
coat, nor helmet of steel, could withstand its stroke
On one of its bright blue sides were many mystic
i GO The £>tory of Roland,
carved, — words which the Trojans knew, but which
had long ago been forgotten, and which none but sooth-
sayers could now make out. Malagis the dwarf read
them : " LxiT HONOR BE TO HIM WHO MOST DESERVETH
fT." On the other side were the words which I have
elsewhere quoted, — "I AM DURANDAL, WHICH TROJAN
HECTOR WORE," — written in Latin. It is said by some,
that once, when Charlemagne was in the valley of Mau-
riveinej an angel — or more likely a fairy — gave this
sword to him, and told him to gird it on a young knight
who had never known fear or reproach. Others say,
that, after the death of Hector at the hands of the
wrathful Achilles, this wondrous blade had been taken
and kept by fair Penthiselea, Queen of Persia ; and that
from her it had been handed down, age after age, from
one generation to another, to be wielded by the worthi-
est of Persia's Pagan princes ; and that at last Charle-
magne had wrested it from the unbelievers, and kept it
to endow his loved nephew. Let it be as it may, we
know that the king gave it to Roland when he invested
him with knighthood, and that Roland proved himself
well worthy of the gift.
Next to the sword Durandal, the thing which Roland
prized the most was an ivory horn which he wore hung
from his neck by a golden chain. This horn had been
made from the tooth of a sea-horse, or, what is more
likely, the tusk of a unicorn ; and it was set thick with
pearls and priceless gem-stones, and inlaid with silver
and gold. Old stories are not quite clear as to how 01
Roland's Arms. 101
where Roland got this wondrous horn ; but I have heard
that it, too, was a gift from the king. Charlemagne had
long prized it as a rare treasure, not only on account ol
its great beauty and its workmanship, but also because
of the wonderful music which was said to issue from it
when blown by any one who was strong enough to
sound it. Yet nobody in Charlemagne's time had ever
heard it. The stoutest knights who came to Paris or to
Aix were challenged to blow upon it, and the king
promised to give the beautiful instrument to him who
could first make the slightest sound come out of it.
And, although some had split their lungs in trying, no
one had ever succeeded in making a single note. On
an idle day in winter, the king by chance bethought
him of challenging Roland to blow.
"Dear nephew," said he, "you have never yet been
beaten in tourney or in fight, nor have you ever failed
in any thing you have undertaken. I have here some-
thing that will test your strength. It is the horn of my
grandfather, the great Charles the Hammer. In his
days, when men were stronger and seemingly more val-
iant than now, the most wondrous sounds were made tc
come out of it. I have heard it said that these sounds
had all the sweetness of angels7 songs coupled with the
deafening din of the thunder's crash. And, indeed,
some slanderers once whispered that it was the sound
of this horn, rather than his own valor or that of his
fighting men, that won for Charles the Hammer that
grand victory over the Saracens at Poictiers which has
1O2 The Story of Roland.
made his name so famous. But men have grown won-
drous weak of lungs, and not a knight in all France can
blow the horn now."
Roland took the ivory bugle in his hands, and ad-
mired its rare beauty. Then he put it to his mouth
and blew. A sound more wonderful than any man then
living had ever heard came forth, and filled the hall and
the great palace, and rolled out through the gates into
the streets and over the country, and was carried from
city to castle, and from castle to countryside, and
through the forests, and over the mountains, until the
whole land, for leagues and leagues around, echoed and
re-echoed with the wondrous vibrations. Never were
folk more astonished than those who heard this sound.
Men, women, and children stood in utter amazement,
holding their hands to their ears, afraid to listen, and
yet wishing to hear. Some thought that the heavens
were falling, and that the end of the world had come.
Others wondered what kind of thunder this was, which,
with all its deafening clangor, was sweeter than music.
The king, with hasty gestures, begged Roland to stop
Kowing ; but, after he had ceased, the sound continued
for a long time to reverberate among the castle towers,
and from hill to hill, and from earth to sky, like the
distant rolling of the thunder after a summer stona
has passed over our heads.
"The horn is yours," said the king, delighted and
amazed. " You have fairly won the horn of Char lea
the Hammer, and no one can ever gainsay your right
Roland's Arms. 103
to it. But I give it to you only on condition that you
shall never blow it, save in battle and in time of the
utmost need."
That same evening, as Charlemagne and his house*
^lold sat in the well-warmed hall of the palace, and be-
guiled the hours with music and mirth, a minstrel sang
to them the Song of the Lorrainers ; * and he told them
of the gallant sons of Hervi, of Garin, and Bego of
Belin, who, he said, was the last knight who had car-
ried the ivory bugle of Charles the Hammer.
THE STORY.
Charles the Hammer was dead, and his young son
Pepin was king of France. Bego of Belin was his dear-
est friend, and to him he had given all Gascony in fief.
You would have far to go to find the peer of the valiant
Bego. None of King Pepin's nobles dared gainsay
him. Rude in speech and rough in war, though he
was, he was a true knight, gentle and loving to his
friends, very tender to his wife and children, kind to
his vassals, just and upright in all his doings. The
very flower of knighthood was Bego.
Bitter feuds had there been between the family of
Beg© and that of Fromont of Bordeaux. Long time
had these quarrels continued, and on both sides much
blood had been spilled. But now there had been peace
between them for ten years and more, and the old
hatred was being forgotten,
Note 8 at the end ot this
1O4 frhe Story of Roland.
One day Bego sat in his lordly castle at Bel in ; and
beside him was his wife, the fair Beatrice. In all
France there was not a happier man. From the win-
dows the duke looked out upon his broad lands and the
rich farms of his tenants. As far as a bird could fly
in a day, all was his ; and his vassals and serving-men
were numbered by the tens of thousands. " What
more," thought Bego, " could the heart of man wish or
pray for ? ' His two young sons came bounding into
the hall, — Germ, the elder born, fair-haired and tall,
brave and gentle as his father; and Hernaudin, the
younger, a child of six summers, his mother's pet, and
the joy of the household. With them were six other
lads, sons of noblemen ; and all together laughed and
played, and had their boyish pleasure.
When the duke saw them, he remembered his own
boyhood days and the companions who had shared his
sports, and he sighed. The fair Beatrice heard him,
and she said, " My lord, what ails you, that you are so
thoughtful to-day? Why should rich duke like you
sigh, and seem sad ? Great plenty of gold and silver
have you in your coffers ; you have enough of the vair
ind the gray,1 of hawks on their perches, of mules and
palfreys and war steeds ; you have overcome all your
foes, and none dare rise up against you. All within
six days' journey are your vassals. What more would
you desire to make you happy ? '
1 The 9*ir *nd the gray, — furs used for garments, and in heraldry. V?ir is
the skin of the squirrel, and was arranged ia shields of blue and white alternating.
Roland's Slrms. 105
"Sweet lady," answered Bego, "you have spoken
truly. I am rich, as the world goes ; but my wealth is
not happiness. True wealth is not of money, of the
vair and the gray, of mules, or of horses. It is of kins-
folk and friends. The heart of a man is worth more
thar all the gold of a country. Had it not been for my
friends, I would have been put to shame long ago. The
king has given me this fief, far from my boyhood's
home, where I see but few of my old comrades and
helpers. I have not seen my brother Garin, the Lor-
rainer, these seven years, and my heart yearns to behold
him. Now, methinks, I will go to him, and I will see
his son, the child Girbert, whom I have never seen."
The Lady Beatrice said not a word, but the tears
began to well up sadly in her eyes.
" In the wood of Puelle," said Bego, after a pause,
" there is said to be a wild boar, the largest and fiercest
ever seen. He outruns the fleetest horses. No man
can slay him. Methinks, that if it please God, and I
live, I will hunt in that wood, and I will carry the head
of the great beast to my brother the Lorrainer."
Then Beatrice, forcing back her tears, spoke. " Sir,"
said she, " what is it thou sayest ? The wood of Puelle
is in the land of Count Baldwin, and thou knowest that
he was slain by thee in those unhappy wars long time
ago ; but I have been told that he left a son, who has
sworn to avenge him. The wood is also in the march
of Fromont the chief, and he owes thee a great grudge.
He would be too glad to do thee haim. I pray thee do
/o6 The Story of Roland.
not undertake this hunt. My heart tells me, — I will
not hide the truth from thee, — my heart tells me, that
if thou goest thither thou shalt never come back alive."
But the duke laughed at her fears ; and the more she
tried to dissuade him, the more he set his mind on see-
ing his brother the Lorrainer, and on carrying to him
the head of the great wild boar of Puelle. Neithei
prayers nor tears could turn him from his purpose. All
the gold in the world, he said, would not tempt him to
give up the adventure.
So on the morrow morning, before the sun had fairly
risen, Bego made ready to go. As this was no warlike
enterprise, he dressed himself in the richest garb of
knightly hero, — with mantle of ermine, and spurs of
gold. With him he took three dozen huntsmen, all
skilled in the lore of the woods, and ten packs of hunt-
ing hounds. He had, also, ten horses loaded with gold
and silver and costly presents, and more than a score
of squires and serving-men. Tenderly he bade fair
Beatrice and his two young sons good-by. Ah, what
grief ! Never was he to see them more.
Going by way of Orleans, Bego stopped a day with
his sister, the lovely Helois. Three days he tarried at
Paris, the honored guest of the king and queen. Then
pushing on to Valenciennes, which was on the borders
of the great forest, he took up lodging with a rich
burgher called Berenger the gray.
"Thou hast many foes in these parts,"' said th*
burgher, " and thou wouldst do well to ware of them '
Roland's Arms. 107
Bego only laughed at the warning. " Didst thou ever
£now a Gascon to shun danger ? " he asked. " I have
heard of the famed wild boar of Puelle, and I mean to
hunt him in this wood. Neither friends nor foes shall
hinder me."
On the morrow Berenger led the duke and his party
into the wood, and showed them the lair of the oeast
Out rushed the monster upon his foes ; then swiftly he
fled, crashing through brush and brake, keeping well
out of the reach of the huntsmen, turning every now
and then to rend some too venturesome hound. For
fifteen leagues across the country he led the chase.
One by one the huntsmen lost sight of him. Toward
evening a cold rain came up ; and they turned, and rode
back toward Valenciennes. They had not seen the
duke since noon. They supposed that he had gone
back with Berenger. But Bego was still riding through
the forest in close pursuit of the wild boar. Only three
hounds kept him company. The beast was well-nigb
wearied out, and the duke knew that he could not gc
much farther. He rode up close behind him ; and the
fierce animal, his mouth foaming with rage, turned furi
$usly upon him. But the knight, with a well-aimec
thrust of his sword, pierced the great beast through
the heart.
By this time, night was falling. The duke knew tha1
he was very far from any town or castle, but he hopec
that some of his men might be within call. He tooi
his horn, and blew it twice full loudly. But his hunt.*
io8 T/ie Story of KoLand.
men were now riding into Valenciennes ; nor did they
think that they had left their master behind them in
the wood. With his flint the duke kindled a fire be
neath an aspen tree, and made ready to spend the night
oear the place where the slain wild boar lay.
The forester who kept the wood heard the sound
of Bego's horn, and saw the light of the fire gleaming
through the trees. Cautiously he drew nearer. He
was surprised to see a knight so richly clad, with his
silken hose and his golden spurs, his ivory horn hang-
ing from his neck by a blue ribbon. He noticed the
great sword that hung at Bego's side. It was the fairest
and fearfullest weapon he had ever seen. He hastened
as fast as he could ride to Lens, where Duke Fromont
dwelt ; but he spoke not a word to Fromont. He took
the steward of the castle aside, and told him of what he
had seen in the wood.
" He is no common huntsman," said the forester ;
" and you should see how richly clad he is. No king
was ever arrayed more gorgeously while hunting. And
his horse — I never saw a better."
" But what is all this to me ? ' asked the steward.
"If he is trespassing in the forest, it is your duty to
bring him before the duke/'
"Ah! it is hard for you to understand," answered
the forester. " Methinks that if our master had the
boar, the sword, and the horn, he would let me keep
the clothing, and you the horse, and would trouble us
with but few questions,"
Roland's Arms. 109
"Thou art indeed wise," answered the steward.
And he at once called six men, whom he knew he could
trusc to any evil deed, and told them to go with the
fore&ter.
"And, if you find any man trespassing in Duke
Fremont's wood, spare him not," he added,
In the morning the ruffians came to the place where
Duke Bego had spent the night. They found him sit-
ting not far from the great beast which he had slain,
while his horse stood before him, and neighed with im-
patience, and struck his hoofs upon the ground. They
asked him who gave him leave to hunt in the wood of
Puelle.
" I ask no man's leave to hunt where it pleases me,"
he answered.
They told him then that the lordship of the wood was
with Fremont, and that he must go with them, as their
prisoner, to Lens.
" Very well," said Bego. " I will go with you. If I
have done aught of wrong to Fromont the old, I arn
willing to make it right with him. My brother Garin,
•he Lorrainer, and King Pepin, will go my surety."
Then, looking around upon the villainous faces of
the men who had come to make prisoner of him, he
bethought himself for a moment.
" No, no ! ' he cried. " Never will I yield me to si*
such rascals. Before I die, I will sell myself full deai.
Yesterday six and thirty knights were with me, and
master huntsmen, skilled in all the lore of the wood.
no The Story of Roland.
^••^•••^•••••••••••••••••...ii.! . .•-•^^— ill • . .m • n !••••••••••— ^—•••••^•^-••••••~ -.^^— ••••-.. •. !!•••! i i UNI jn~n»^
Noble men were they all ; for not one of them but held
in fief some town or castle or rich countryside. They
will join me ere long."
" He speaks thus, either to excuse himself or to
frighten us," said one of the men ; and he went boldly
forward, and tried to snatch the horn from Bego's neck.
The duke raised his fist, and knocked him senseless tc>
the ground.
" Never shall ye take horn from count's neck ! ' he
cried.
Then all set upon him at once, hoping that by their
numbers they might overpower him. But Bego dre^
his sword, and struck valiantly to the right and to the
left of him. Three of the villains were slain outright ;
and the rest took to their heels and fled, glad to escape
such fury.
And now all might have been well with Duke Bego.
But a churl, armed with a bow, and arrows of steel, was
hidden among the trees. When he saw his fellows put
to flight, he drew a great steel bolt, and aimed it at the
duke. Swiftly sped the arrow toward the noble targe •
too truly was it aimed. The duke's sword fell from
y§ hands : the master -vein of his heart had been cut
in twain. He lifted his hands toward heaven, and
prayed : —
"Almighty Father, who always wert and art, have
pity on my soul. — Ah, Beatrice ! thou sweet, gentle
wife, never more shalt thou see me under heaven.—
Fair brother Garin of Lorraine, never shall I be with
Roland's Arms. in
thee to serve thee. — My two noble boys, if I had lived,
you should have been the worthiest of knights : now,
may Heaven defend you ! '
After a while the churl and the three villains came
near him, and found him dead,. It was no comraoi
huntsman whom they had killed, but a good knight, —
the loyalest and the best that ever God's sun shone
upon. They took the sword and the horn and the good
steed ; they loaded the boar upon a horse ; and all re-
turned to Lens. But they left Bego in the forest, and
with him his three dogs, who sat around him, and
howled most mournfully, as if they-knew they had lost
their best friend.
The men carried the great boar into the castle of
Lens, and threw it down upon the kitchen hearth. A
wonderful beast he was : his sharp, curved tusks stuck
out full a foot from his mouth. The serving-men and
the squires crowded around to see the huge animal ;
then, as the news was told through the castle, many
fair ladies and knights, and the priests from the chapel,
came in to view the sight. Old Duke Fromont heard
the uproar, and came in slippers and gown to ask what
It all meant.
" Whence came this boar, this ivory horn, thi§
aword?" he inquired. "This horn never belonged to
a mere huntsman. It looks like the wondrous horn
that King Charles the Hammer had in the days of my
father. There is but one knight now living that can
blow it ; and he is far away in Gascon y. Tell me wbera
vou got these things '
H2 The Story of Roland.
Then the forester told him all that had happened in
the wood, coloring the story, of course, so as to excuse
himself from wrong doing.
" And left ye the slain man in the wood ? " asked the
old duke. " A more shameful sin I have sever known
than to leave him there for the wolves to eat. Go ye
back at once, and fetch him hither. To-night he shall
be watched in the chapel, and to-morrow he shall be
buried with all due honor. Men should have pity of
one another."
The body of the noble Duke Bego was brought, and
laid upon a table in the great hall. His dogs were
still with him, howling pitifully, and licking his face.
Knights and noblemen came in to see him.
" A gentle man this was," said they ; " for even his
dogs loved him."
" Shame on the rascals who slew him I " said others.
" No freeman would have touched so noble a knight."
Old Duke Fromont came in. He started back at
sight of him who lay there lifeless. Well he knew
Duke Bego, by a scar that he himself had given him at
the battle of St. Quentin ten years before. He fell
fainting into the arms of his knights. Then afterward
he upbraided his men for their dastardly deed, and
bewailed their wicked folly.
"This is no poaching huntsman whom you have
slain," said he, " but a most worthy knight, — the kind-
est, the best taught, that ever wore spurs. And ye have
dragged me this day into such a war that I shall not be
Roland's Arms. 113
out of it so long as f live. I shall see my lands over-
run and wasted, my great castles thrown down and
destroyed, and my people distressed and slain ; and as
for myself I shall have to die — and all this for a fault
which is none of mine, and for a deed which I have
neither wished nor sanctioned."
"And the words of Duke Fromont were true," added
the story-teller as he brought his story to an end.
" The death of Bego of Belin was fearfully avenged by
his brother the Lorrainer and by his young sons Gerin
and Hernaud. Never was realm so impoverished as
was Fremont's dukedom. The Lorrainers and the
Gascons overran and laid waste the whole country.
A pilgrim might go six days' journey without finding
bread, or meat, or wine. The crucifixes lay prone upon
the ground ; the grass grew upon the altars ; and no
man stopped to plead with his neighbor. Where had
been fields and houses, and fair towns and lordly castles,
now there was nought but woods and underbrush and
thorns. And old Duke Fromont, thus ruined through
no fault of his own, bewailed his misfortunes, and said
to his friends^ 'I have not land enough to rest upon
or to lie upon
14 The Story gf Roland.
ADVENTURE X.
A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER.
CHARLEMAGNE held high festival at Paris. It was in
thanksgiving for the victories with which his arms had
everywhere been blessed. Once more the foes of Chris-
tendom had been driven from Christian soil ; once more
did peace and prosperity seem to smile upon France.
And the king had summoned the worthiest barons and
warriors of his realm to award to each some fitting
recompense for his services and good faith.
Among the knights who had come to Paris was old
Count Gerard, the grandfather of Oliver, and one of tht
most powerful barons of France. He had come to
renew his homage for his ancient fief of Viana ; and he
hoped that the king, as a reward for his lifelong services,
would grant him now the vacant fief of Burgundy.
Bat. from some reason best known to himself, Charle
tnagne failed to invest him with the wished-for duke-
dom. Some say that it was til the result of an awkward
accident. The count, they say, after doing homage for
Viana, stooped, as was the custom in those timesf to
kiss the king's foot But, greatly to his chagrin, he
A Roland for an Oliver. 115
stumbled, and his lips touched the foot of the queen,
who was sitting by the side of Charlemagne. The
knights who stood around were much amusea, and
could not forbear laughing at the unlucky count ; but
the king, in anger, told him that the fief of Burgundy
had already been granted to a younger and more cour
ieous knight, and that he must content himself with
Viana until he had learned better manners. Count
Gerard, boiling over with rage, turned upon his heel,
and strode out of the palace. He called his men to
gether, mounted his horse, and set out with all speed
for Viana.
It matters riot whether this story be true or not, we
know that Count Gerard rebelled against the king,
and declared, that, for the affront which Charlemagne
had offered him, he would no longer be his man, nor
pay him tribute. He shut himself up in the strong-
hold of Viana, which he victualled and strengthened
with great care, and made ready for a long and a close
siege. He sent also to his brother Miles of Apulia and
to his son Rainier of Genoa, craving their help. Miles
came with a thousand men bearing shields ; and Rainier,
with two thousand crossbow-men. With Rainier came
also his son Oliver, boldest of warriors, and his daugh-
ter Alda, beautiful as a Persian peri, brave as a Saxon
valkyrie.
Great indeed was the siege which Charlemagne
placed around Viana : none ever saw the like before
And he vowed that he would never leave it, nor give up
i*6 The Story of Roland.
the contest, until the proud Gerard should be humbled
in the dust before him. For nine weeks he besieged
the stronghold, and allowed no one to come in or to go
out ; and yet so well supplied was the garrison with all
things needful for life and comfort that they cared but
little for the blockade. Neither besiegers nor besieged
spared any pains to annoy one another. If Charle-
magne's warriors dared approach too near the walls, they
were driven back by a shower of arrows from the cross-
bows of the sharp-sighted Genoans. If the men of Viana
ventured outside of the gates, or beyond the moat, a
troop of fleet horsemen drove them back at the point of
the lance. Sometimes the besieged would make a bold
sally, and attack their foes in the open plain ; sometimes
the besiegers would try to take the stronghold by storm.
But day after day went by, the summer passed, and
autumn came, and the war seemed no nearer at an end.
Sometimes the Lady Alda stood upon the ramparts,
and cheered the besieged, or helped to throw down
stones and other missiles upon the heads of those who
were trying to scale the walls. And once, dressed ic
full armor, she ventured out at. the head of the Vianese,
and boldly charged upon the besiegers. One day,
Roland, seeing the fair lady standing upon the wall,
rode up within call, and asked her her name.
" My name is Alda," she answered, " and my grand-
father is the Count Gerard."
"And my name is Roland," said the hero, "and my
ancle is King Charlemagne. Never have I seen a
A Roland for an Oliver. 117
warrior-maiden fairer or nobler than thou. Never will
I cease to love and to woo thee, though it should be
at the cost of my life."
The next morning Roland fully armed, with his hawk
perched on his wrist, rode down toward the Rhone Ij?
the garden, beneath the walls of the fortress, he saw a
mallard sitting. Thinking to have some sport, he
loosed the hawk from his arm. High into the air the
creature sprang ; round and round above his head it
circled, looking down in search of prey. It saw the
mallard in the garden, and, quick as an arrow, darted
down upon it. But, after it had struck the unoffending
bird to the ground, it seemed not at all anxious to come
back to its master. In vain did Roland whistle and
call : as if knowing that it was beyond his reach, it sat
on the branch of an apple tree, and quietly plumed its
feathers. A knight in the castle, seeing the hawk, and
wishing to have it for his own, came out into the garden
to call it, He was armed from head to foot, and his
visor was closed, and a long red plume waved from his
helmet's crest. The bird heard his call, and flew to
him, and alighted upon his wrist. A noble bird it was,
—the falcon which Roland petted and prized more thai?
any other.
Roland spurred his steed, and rode as near to the
walls as a prudent fear of the crossbow-men would
allow. " Sir knight/' cried he very courteously, " give
me back my bird, and you shall have fifteen pounds
of gold?"
1 18 The Story of Roland.
"Nay," answered the Knight of the Red Plume.
11 Not for a hundred pounds would I give him to you,
I have taken him fairly, as the spoils of war, and I
mean to keep him. No usurer shall buy me with gold."
Then Roland again put spurs to his horse, and, heed-
ing not the threats of the crossbow-men upon the bat-
tlements, he rode boldly across the field, and paused
not until he stood within ten paces of the strange
knight, and close to the castle wall. But the visors of
both warriors were closed, and neither could see the
other's face.
Very courteously, as became a well-taught knight,
Roland asked the other his name.
" Vassal," answered he, " my name is my own, and I
give it not to strangers or to foes. You may call me
the Knight of the Red Plume."
" Friend," said Roland, " I seek no quarrel with you.
Give me rny bird, — carry it no farther, — and we shall
part in peace, to meet, perhaps, as foes another time."
" Ah, indeed ! ' answered the stranger-knight with
a sneer. "Truly, you should be my henchman. A
brave man you seem to be ! If you will serve me a
year and a day, you shall be knighted, and shall have
either land, or fee, or burgh, or castle, as your valor
shall deserve."
Roland was deeply angered by these taunting words,
and he drew his sword half out of its scabbard. But
then he remembered that he had vowed not to cross
weapons that day with any foe.
A Ko land for an Oliver. 119
" Vassal ! ' cried he, rising in his stirrups, " I pray
you that for love you give me the bird ; and I promise
you that if, after to-day, you ask aught of satisfaction
from me, it shall be as you wish."
" The hawk is yours," answered the knight, loosing
the bird, and handing it to Roland. " Willingly I give
it you. But remember your promise,"
" Truly it shall not be forgotten," answered Roland.
And the two knights parted.
Week after week passed by, and still the wearisome
siege continued. Some say that Charlemagne was
encamped around Viana for seven years, but I think it
could not have been more than seven months. Never-
theless, the whole country, for leagues on every side,
was laid waste ; and what had once been a blooming
garden was now in a fair way to become a desert,
The vineyards had been destroyed ; the orchards had
been cut down ; the houses of the country-folk had been
burned and destroyed. Great, indeed, was the distress
caused by this quarrel between the king and the count ;
but the distress fell upon neither king nor count, but
apon the innocent and the helpless. Ah, how cruel
is war !
The king allowed neither wind nor rain to turn him
aside from his purpose, or to make him forget his vow ;
and all winter long his men sat by their camp fires, and
surlily guarded the approaches to Viana. At length,
however, Eastertide drew on apace ; and the woods
1 20 The Story of Roland.
began to grow green again, and the flowers sprang up.
In the meadows, and the birds sang soft and sweet.
And many knights bethought them then how idly and
vainly their time was being spent in this fruitless war
against one of their own number ; and they longed to
ride away in quest of other and more worthy adven-
tures. The king tried hard to press the siege and to
bring it to a speedy close, but in vain. The watchful
and valiant crossbow-men held the besiegers at bay,
and obliged them to keep their accustomed goodly dis
tance from the walls.
One day a party of strange knights rode into the
camp, and asked to see the king without delay. They
carne from the mountain land which borders France on
the south ; and they brought stirring news, — news
which aroused the zeal of every loyal Christian warrior.
Marsilius, the Pagan king of Spain, they said, had
crossed the Pyrenees with a great host of Saracens, and
was carrying fire and sword and dire distress into the
fairest provinces of Southern France. Unless Charle-
magne should come quickly to the help of his people,
all Aquitaine and Gascony would be lost, and the Pagans
would possess the richest portion of his kingdom.
The king was much troubled when he heard these
tidings, and he called his peers together to ask their
advice. All declared at once in favor of raising the
siege of Viana, of making some sort of peace with
Gerard, and marching without delay against the invad-
ers. But Charlemagne remembered, that, before nnr].>
A Roland far an Oliver. 121
- r— — • ^ — . - T . i- - _. . _r_ IT
taking the siege of Viana, he had vowed not to desist
until Count Gerard was humbled in the dust at his
feet.
" 1 have an oath in heaven," said he, " and 1 mast
not break it. This traitor Gerard shall not be spared"
"Which were better," asked Duke Ganelon mildly, —
' to forget a vow which was made too hastily, or to sit
here helpless, and see all Christendom trodden under
the feet of accursed Saracens ? '
" It seems to me," said sage Duke Namon, " that the
present business might be speedily ended by leaving it
to the judgment of God. Count Gerard knows noth-
ing of the straits that you are in : he cannot have heard
of this invasion by the Saracens ; and he will gladly
agree to any arrangement that will bring your quarrel
with him to an honorable end. Let two knights be
chosen by lot, one from each party, and let the combat
between them decide the question between you and
Count Gerard."
Charlemagne and his peers were much pleased with
this plan ; and a messenger with a truce-flag was sent
into the fortress to propose the same to Count Gerard.
The men of Viana were not only heartily tired of fight
ing against the king, but they foresaw, that, if the siege
were kept up much longer, they would be obliged to
surrender for want of food ; for their provisions were
already beginning to run low. So they very gladly
agreed to leave the whole matter to the decision of
Heaven; and, as they numbered among them some <:t
122 The Story of Roland,
the bravest and most skilful swordsmen in Christendom^
they had little doubt but that the judgment would be
in their favor.
When the messenger came back to Chailemagne
with Count Gerard's answer, the king and his peers at
once drew lots in order to determine which one of their
number should be their champion. The lot fell upon
Roland ; and to him was assigned the danger and the
honor of maintaining the dignity and authority of the
king, and of deciding a question which many months
of warfare and siege had failed to settle.
Early the following morning Roland was ferried over
to an island meadow in the Rhone, where the knight
who had been chosen by the Vianese folk to oppose
him was already waiting. He was surprised to see that
it was the Knight of the Red Plume, — the same with
whom he had talked in the garden beneath the castle
walls. Roland was well armed ; but instead of his own
shield he carried another, which the king had given
him — one wide and thick, but new and untried; yet
his good sword, Durandal the terror, slept in its sheath
by his side, and with it alone he would have felt sure
of victory. The Knight of the Red Plume had armed
himself with the greatest care. His war coat had been
wrought by the famed smith, the good Jew Joachim,
and was said to be proof against the stroke of the best-
tempered sword. The hauberk which he wore was the
one which King ^Eneas, ages before, had won from the
Greeks on the plains of Troy. His buckler was of fish«
A Roland for an Oliver. 123
skin from the great salt sea, stretched on a fiame of
iron, and hard enough to turn the edge of any common
sword.
On one bank of the river stood the friends of Roland^
anxious to see how the young hero would acquit him-
self, and yet not at all fearful of the result. On tht
other side were Count Gerard and Miles and Rainier,
arid the bravest knights and the fairest ladies of Viana.
And among these last, the fairest of all was Alda, the
daughter of Rainier, and the sister of Oliver. Very
beautiful was she to look upon. A coronet of pearls
encircled her brows ; golden was her hair, which fell in
rich ringlets on her shoulders ; blue were her eyes as
fhe eyes of moulted falcon ; fresh was her face, and
rosy as dawn of a summer's day ; white were her hands,
her fingers long and slender; her feet were well shaped
and small. The red blood had risen to her face.
Eagerly she waited the beginning of the fray. Roland,
when he saw her, trembled as he had never trembled
before an enemy.
The signal for the onset is given. The two knights
put spurs to their steeds, and dash toward each other
with the fury of tigers and the speed of the wind. The
iances of both are shivered in pieces against the op-
posing shields, but neither is moved from his place in
his saddle. Quickly, then, they dismount, and draw
their swords. How Durandal flashes in the light of
the morning sun ! Now does the helmet which the
good Jew Joachim made do good service for the red«
124 r^e Story of Roland.
plumed knight. The fair Alda is overcome with fear.
She hastens back to the castle. She goes to the chape*
to pray, and falls fainting at the foot of the altar.
Never before has there been so equal a fight. For
more than two hours the two knights thrust and parry v
ward and strike ; but neither gains the better of the
other. At last, however, the sv/ord of the red-plumed
knight is broken by a too lusty blow upon Roland's
helmet : his shield, too, is split from top to bottom. He
has neither wherewith to fight, nor to defend himself,
yet he has made up his mind to die rather than to be
vanquished, and he stands ready to fight with his fists.
Roland is pleased to see such pluck, and he scorns to
take advantage of his toe's ill plight.
"Friend," said he right courteously, "full great is
your pride, and I love you for it. You have lost your
sword and your shield, while my good Durandal has
neither notch nor blemish. Nephew am I to the king
of France, and his champion I am to-day. Great shame
would be upon me, were I to slay an unarmed man
when he is in my power. Choose you now another
sword — one to your own liking — and a more trusty
shield, and meet me again as my equal."
Roland sat down upon the grass and rested himself,
while the red-plumed knight bade his squires bring him
another sword from the castle. Three swords were sent
over to him, — that of Count Gerard, that of Rainier
the Genoese, and Haultclear, a blade which the Jew
Joachim had made, and which in old times had been
the sword of Closamont the emperor,
A Roland for an Oliver. 125
The knight chose Haultclear. Roland rose from the
grass, and the fierce fight began again. Never were
weapons wielded with greater skill ; never was there a
nobler combat. The sun rose high in the heavens, and
the noontide hour came ; and still each knight stood
firmly in his place, thrusting and parrying, striking and
warding, and gaining no vantage over his foe. After a
time, however, the patience of the red-plumed knight
gave out. He grew furious. He was anxious to bring
the combat to an end. He struck savagely at Roland ;
but the stroke was skilfully warded, and Haultclear
snapped short off near the handle. At the same time
Durandal, coming down with the force of a thunder-
bolt, buried itself so deeply in the shield of the red-
plumed knight, that Roland could not withdraw it.
Both knights were thus made weaponless ; but neither
was vanquished. Wrathfully they rushed together to
seize each other, to throw each other down. Moved by
the same thought, each snatched the other's helmet
and lifted it from his head. Some say that a bright
cloud and an angel came down between them, and bade
tbem cease their strife ; but I know not whether this
>c true, for, as they stood there, bareheaded, and face
£o face, memories of their boyhood came back to them.
Both were struck dumb with astonishment for a moment
Roland saw before him his loved brother-in-arms, Oliver.
Oliver, now no longer the red-plumed knight, recognized
his old friend Roland. Then they rushed into each
other's arms.
?a6 The Story of Roland.
" I yield me ! " cried Roland.
" I yield me ! ' cried Oliver.
Great was the wonder of Charlemagne and his peers
when they saw their champion thus giving up the fight
when victory seemed assured. Equally great was the
astonishment of the Vianese and of Oliver's kinsmen.
Knights and warriors from both sides of the river has-
tened to cross to the island. They were eager to know
the meaning of conduct seemingly so unknightly. But
when they came nearer, and saw the men, who had
fought each other so long and so valiantly, now stand-
ing hand in hand, and pledging anew their faith as
brothers-in-arms, every thing was made clear. And
with one voice all joined in declaring that both were
equally deserving of the victory. And Ogier the Dane
stood up, and said, that, although the question between
Charlemagne and Gerard was still unsettled, yet Roland
and Oliver had acquitted themselves in all things as
became true knights.
" Let him who would gainsay it speak now, or for-
ever hold his tongue ! ' he cried.
But in all the host there was not one who wished to
break lances with Ogier, or to risk his displeasure by
disputing his word.
Then the folk of Viana went back to tneir castle
prison, and their foes returned to their tents ; and each
party began anew to plan means by which this tiresome
and unprofitable war might be brought to an end.
Another week, and a fortnight, passed by, and every
_J
O
O
-
O
<
A Roland for an Oliver. 127
day messengers came to Charlemagne, telling of the
ravages of Marsilius the Moor, and begging him to
hasten to the aid of his people. Very willingly would
he have gone, and left Viana in peace, had it not been
for the remembrance of his vow.
rt I cannot go," said he, " until this rebel Gerard is
humbled upon his knees before me."
One by one his knights, tired of inaction, and pre-
ferring to wage war against unbelievers rather than
against men of their own faith and nation, stele quietly
from the camp, and rode away toward the Pyrenees.
It seemed as if the king would be left, aft?,r a while,
to carry on the siege of Viana alone; yc*; he never
faltered in his determination to perform his vow to
the very letter.
One day some huntsmen brought woi d to Charle-
magne that a fierce wild boar had been ?,een in Clare-
naont wood, and that he was now hiding in a thicket not
far from Viana. Ever eager for the chase, the king at
once mounted his horse, and, followed by his men and
his hounds, he hastened to the wood. It was not long
until the grim beast was driven from hfs lair ; and the
king, as was his wont, gave chase. Duke Gerard and
his knights, watching from the towerr* of Viana that
morning, had seen the kingly hunting party ride out
into the wood.
" Let us have a hand in this hunt," said Rainier of
Genoa. " We might hunt for royal game ; and, could
we but take the king, we might end this war on our OWE
T23 The Story of Roland.
Count Gerard and the other nobles were pleased.
"I know a secret underground passage," said the
count, "which leads directly from the castle to the
wood. Once there, we might lie in wait in the thickets,
and waylay the king as he passes by."
The knights at once girded on their armor, hung
their shields to their necks, and took their bows and
arrows in hand. Then, led by two trusty squires, who
lighted the way with torches, they filed through the
long, dark tunnel, and came out in the midst of a briery
thicket in the wood of Claremont. The sound of the
baying hounds told them that the game was not far
away ; and soon, as good fortune would have it, the
hunted beast, furious with rage, rushed past them.
Very close behind him came Charlemagne, riding upon
his favorite hunting-steed and so intent upon spearing
the boar that he neither saw nor thought of any thing
else. The huntsmen and most of the hounds had been
left far behind.
" Now is our time ! ' cried Rainier. And, quick as
thought, five well-armed knights rushed out of the
thicket, and seized the king's charger by the reins, and
called upon him to surrender. Having only the wea-
pons of the chase, and being set upon so unexpectedly,
Charlemagne was no match for his stout assailants.
Quickly he was seized, and dragged from the saddle :
firmly but gently was he held by his captors. Then
Aymery of Narbonne, bloodthirsty, and at heart a trai
tor. whispered to Count Gerard, and advised him to kill
me
Roland for an Oliver. 129
" With him out of our way," said he, " we shall be
free ; our fiefs shall be our own ; and no man shall claim
homage or tribute from us."
But the count pushed him aside with scorn.
" Shame on thee ! " he answered. " May it not please
God that ever king of France be killed by me : of him
I will hold my castle and my lands ! ' And he knelt
humbly before the captive king.
Charlemagne's heart was touched by the words of
loyalty and good faith which fell from the lips of the
count.
"Gerard of Viana," he cried, "all this trouble be-
tween thee and me is ended and forgotten. If thou
hast harmed me, I freely forgive thee. No penny of
tribute shalt thou pay for land, or fief, or castle. Only
for the sake of my vow, renew thy homage."
Then Gerard ungirt his sword from his side, and
uncovered his head, and knelt again before the king;
and he placed both his hands between those of ths
king, and said, —
" From this day forward I become your man of life
and limb, and of all worldly worship ; and unto you I
will be loyal and true, and I will bear you faith for the
lands and the castles and the houses that I claim of
you. And to no other lord will I grant obedience, save
at your behest."
Then the king raised him gently from the ground
and kissed him, and answered, —
" Count of Viana, my man shalt thou be in life and
1 30 The Story of Roland.
limb and worldly worship ; and to thee do I grant the
lands, the fiefs, and the castles of Viana, to have and
to hold without any payment of tribute, or any other
service save that which is given in honorable war."
Then the other knights, in the order of their rank,
came and knelt likewise before the king ; and eacb
in his turn promised to be his man, — first Rainier of
Genoa, then Miles of Apulia, then Oliver, and lastly the
headstrong Aymery of Narbonne. And the king forgave
each one all the wrong that he had ever done him, and
gave back to each all the lands and fiefs and tenements
and all the honors that he had held before.
"And now," said Charlemagne to Count Gerard, "I
will go with you, and sup with you to-night in your
lordly castle of Viana."
Great was the wonder of the Vianese when they saw
the king enter their halls, not as the prisoner, but as
the friend and gu-^st, of the count. And great, indeed,
was the joy when it was known that peace had been
made, and that the wearisome siege was at an end. ID
the broad feast hail, a rich banquet was spread, and the
night was given up to feasting and music and merry
making. And among the knights who sat at the table
there was none more noble or more handsome than
Oliver. And among the ladies who added grace and
beauty to the glad occasion not one was so fair as
Oliver's sister, the matchless Alda.
But in the tents of the besiegers that night there
was much disquietude and bewilderment. The hunt?
A Rotanct, for an Ohver. 131
men had sought in vain for Charlemagne in the wood;
and, when they could not find him, they came back to
the camp, thinking that he had become wearied of the
chase and had returned. On their way they had found
his horse grazing among the herbage, with the reins
lying loose on his neck. Great now was their uneasi
ness. Roland put himself at the head of fifty horse-
men, and scoured the country for miles around. But
as the darkness of night began to settle over the earth,
they were forced to return, sadder and more perplexed
than ever, to the camp. Many were the guesses which
were hazarded regarding this strange disappearance of
the king. Some thought that the wild boar, which was
known to be very large and fierce, might have turned
upon him, and torn him in pieces in the wood. Others
suggested that mayhap he had followed the example of
his barons, and ridden away from this dull siege to the
more active war against the Saracens ; but this did not
seem at all probable. The greater number were agreed
in believing that he had been waylaid and taken pris-
oner by the men of Viana. And all were for placing
themselves under the leadership of Roland, resolved,
that on the morrow they would make one grand assault
on the castle, and carry it, if possible, by storm.
The next morning, what was the astonishment of the
besiegers to see the gates of Viana thrown wide open,
and the men, to the number of two thousand, march out
with music playing, and banners flying, as if it were a
gay holiday ! But greater still was their wonder when
132 The Story of Roland.
•••••••••••^••^•••••••i»»"»»™^»^»»-^^^^^"""""^"^™-™^^"^™"«»«"»«*"i" • • • ••^•••-a ••^•••^•^^ •! i i ••^••••n ma w.i i» ig • •» p*
they saw that the knight who rode so grandly in the
van by the side of Count Gerard was their own loved
king. Roland, who at first was fearful that the Vianese
were plotting some treachery, had hastily drawn up his
warriors in line of battle, ready to defend the camp.
But Charlemagne, as soon as he had come near enough
to be heard, explained that peace had been made, and
that Count Gerard and the barons who were with him
in Viana had renewed their homage, and that all past
differences had been forgotten.
After this the king held his court for seven days in
the castle of Viana ; and the men who had so lately
been foes stood together in the halls as sworn friends,
loyal and true. And the days were given over to merry-
making. And Roland and Oliver, the long separated
brothers-in-arms, sat together in the hall and at the
feast table, and talked of what had befallen them since
the day when they plighted their faith to each other
among the hills of Sutri. And, before the week had
passed, Roland and Alda, the sister of Oliver, were
betrothed.1
1 See Note 9 at the cod of ttiia
Reinold of Montalban. 133
ADVENTURE XL
REINOLD OF MONTALBAN.
MARSILIUS the Saracen had carried fire and sword
into the fairest provinces of Southern France. He had
pillaged the cities, and burned the towns, and ravaged
the fields, and what had once been the pleasantest and
most prosperous of Charlemagne's domains he had
turned into a smoking desert. The distressed people
had sent message after message to the king, begging
him to send them help; but he was too intent upon
besieging Viana, and too determined to redeem his vow
by humbling the haughty Count Gerard in the dust
before him. And as day after day passed by and the
Pagans still continued to burn and destroy, the unhappy
folk began to lose all hope, and to fear that they had
been forgotten, and abandoned to the ruthless fury of
their Saracen foes. What, then, was their joy, when
the news was carried from mouth to mouth that the
siege of Viana had been raised, and that Charlemagne
and his knights were riding to their aid !
Over hill, and through valley, and across desert wastes,
rode the kingly company ; and no one cared for weari
34 The Story of Roland.
ness, or for pain, or for hunger, so long as the Pagan
folk threatened their land, and they were marching to
the rescue. But, among all the knights and barons
in the French host, none were more impatient than the
three brothers-in-arms, — Roland, and Oliver, and Ogier
the Dane. And when they reached that part of the
land which had been ravaged by Marsilius, and saw the
smoking ruins and deserted farmlands, and distress
and death on every hand, they could no longer restrain
themselves. They longed for a chance to take ven-
geance upon the hated unbelievers.
"The army moves too slowly," said Roland to his
comrades. "Every day adds to the distress of our
people and to the fiendish triumph of our foes. Let us
ride on faster. We are mounted better than those who
follow us ; and while they are toiling among these hills
and over these ill-conditioned roads, we may, perhaps,
overtake and give battle to some part of the Pagan
host."
Not a moment did his brother knights hesitate ; not
a word of dissent did they speak. They put spurs to
their steeds, and with a few trusty followers were soon
far in advance of the main army, determined, if possi
ble, to come up with the enemy, and offer them battle.
Marsilius the Moor had no sooner heard of the peace
made at Viana, and of the coming of Charlemagne and
his warriors, than he ordered an immediate retreat into
Spain ; and he was now well on his way back to the
passes of the Pyrenees. Day after day Roland and his
Keinold of Montalban. 135
comrades followed in the wake of the flying foe. Some-
times, on climbing to the top of a hill, they could
see the banners of the Pagan rearguard far in ad-
vance of them. Sometimes, when a breeze came to
them from the west, they could hear the tramp of the
Moorish horse, or the rough cries of the Moorish sol-
diery. But, ride as fast as their steeds would carry
them, they could not overtake the enemy, who, it seems,
were mounted as well as they. And at last, when the
great mountain wall of the Pyrenees rose up in front
of them, the Pagan host had already entered one of the
passes, and had crossed safely over into Spain. The
heroes were greatly disappointed because the foe had
thus escaped them ; yet they deemed it the better
part of valor to give up the pursuit, and to ride back
to Charlemagne and his host, who were still ad-
vancing among the hills and valleys of Southern
Gascony.
The king received the news of the escape of Mar-
silius with a much better grace than they expected.
" I am glad that he is well out of our way," said he ;
"for now I shall have but one foe to deal with, instead
®f two."
They asked him what he meant.
'•'Five leagues from here," said he, "is the strong-
hold of Montalban, where my rebel nephew, Reinold,
has taken refuge, with his brothers and all the discon-
tented barons of Southern France, and from whence he
gives aid and comfort to our Pagan foes. I will not
136 The Story of Roland.
rest until I have razed Montalban to the ground, and
punished my nephews as they deserve."
Not long afterward the host came in sight of the
marble walls of Montalban, glistening in the sunlight
like a white star on the mountain tops. But who was
this rebel, Reinold, who dwelt in this princely castle
on the borderlands of France ? I will tell you,
In the earlier years of Charlemagne's reign, the
noblest among the barons at his court was Duke Aymon
of Ardennes. Aymon had married Aya, the sister of
Charlemagne ; and he had four sons — Allard, Guichard,
Richard, and Reinold — and a daughter named Brada-
mant. Upon a time Charlemagne held a high festival,
and ordered that all his noblest vassals should come
and do him homage. All who had been summoned
were there, save Sir Bevis of Aigremont, the brother
of Duke Aymon. The king was very angry that one of
his barons should neglect the duty of renewing his hom-
age. He vowed that he would not only take away all
the fiefs and estates of Sir Bevis, but that he would
aave him hanged as a traitor. Duke Namon, ever far-
sighted and just, persuaded him to try peaceful tneas-
ares first, and to send an embassy to the absent knight,
summoning him the second time, Charlemagne sent,
therefore, his own son, Lothaire, with four hundred
chosen warriors, to demand the renewal of homage from
Sir Bevis. But Sir Bevis had resolved that he would no
longer be the vassal of the king, and that he would
hold his fiefs in his own right and by his own strength
Reinold of Montalban. 137
So he caused Lothaire to be waylaid in the forest of
Ardennes, and slain. Very great was the anger and
the grief of Charlemagne when the news of this treach-
erous act was brought to him. Without any delay he
summoned his host, and marched in full force against
Aigremont. But Duke Aymon and his four sons did
not follow the standard of the king. They preferred
to join themselves with the rebel Sir Bevis ; and this
was the beginning of the great trouble which arose
between them and Charlemagne. Not long after this, a
battle was fought, and the rebels were routed with great
slaughter ; and Sir Bevis and Duke Aymon came bare-
footed into the presence of the king, and humbly craved
his mercy. Charlemagne agreed to pardon them if they
would come to Paris and renew their homage. But
Ganelon, ever bent upon mischief, upbraided the king
for his forbearance toward his enemies,
" Much love had you for your son Lothaire ! " said he,
•' His blood, spilled in the wood of Ardennes, still calls
for vengeance upon his murderers. But his father is
deaf : he cannot hear those cries."
And he persuaded the king to waylay and kill Sir
Bevis while on his way to Paris. Duke Aymon and his
sons, therefore, again took up arms against Charlemagne,
and a long and cruel war between them followed.
Now, Duke Aymon had a wonderful horse, named
Bayard, — the noblest steed in all the world. Very
large and strong was he ; and he could run with the
speed of the winds ; and he was very wise and knowing
138 The Story of Roland.
One day this horse was missed from his stall ; and
although the duke ordered all the country around the
castle to be searched, no one remembered having sees
the missing steed, and he was not to be found anywhere.
Very sad was Duke Aymon. He would liever have lost
a thousand men, or even the best of his castles, tha&
this horse. While he was musing over his misfortunes,
the dwarf Malagis, who was his cousin, and always a
ftrm friend of his house, stood before him.
" Ah, cousin Malagis ! ' said the duke. '• Thou art
the very man I wished most to see. Thou hast the
gift of witchcraft, and thou canst tell me where my
Bayard is."
" Indeed I can ! " answered the dwarf. " I saw him
carried off last night by goblins. And he is now hid-
len and imprisoned in the smoky caverns of Mount
Vulcanus."
"And can nothing be done to bring him back?'
asked the duke. "Without my horse I am ruined."
" I will bring him back to you," said the wizard. And
before the duke could say a word, he had walked out oi
the gate, and was hastening across the country toward
Mount Vulcanus.
After a toilsome journey of many days, Malagis came
to the great smoky mountain of Vulcanus ; and without
fear or hesitation he climbed down the broad chimney
way, and stood in the smoke-begrimed caverns and halls
where King Vulcan, the lame blacksmith of the GoldeE
Age, still held his court, although most of his kith anc
Reinold of Montalban. 139
kin had died long before. Very courteously did Malagis
greet the ruler of these doleful regions.
" Who art thou ? " asked Vulcan. " How darest thoi^
who art only a puny mortal, come thus into the pres*
ence-chamber of the immortals ? '
"My name is Malagas,' answered the dwarf, "an^
J O "
among men I am known as a great wizard. But the}
think nothing of my art. Little praise get I for all m)
wisdom."
" Men are by nature thankless," said Vulcan.
"So they are," answered Malagis. "And for that
same reason I have left their abodes, and have come to
'ive with you, and to offer my services to you."
" What can you do ? " asked Vulcan.
" Try me and see," answered the wizard.
" Very well, then," said the old master smith. " I
will give you a task that will put your cunning to the
test. A fortnight ago the mountain goblins, who are
the only servants I have nowadays, brought me a steed,
the most wonderful that was ever seen. The famed
horses of olden times were but very tame creatures
compared with him. He is wiser than the Centaurs,
swifter on foot than Pegasus was on the wing, fierce:-
and wilder than Bucephalus, nobler than the fabled
GreyfelL, Very fain would I ride out into the great-
world mounted on the back of this steed, but he will
not let me come near him. Now, if you want to show
your skill as a magician, do you go to my stables, bridle
and saddle this untamable steed, and bring him here
that I may mount him."
140 The Story of Roland.
" My lord," said the cunning dwarf, " I will try what
I can do with him."
When Malagis entered the stables, the fierce horse
ran toward him, angrily snapping and kicking. But the
wizard whispered, " Bayard, thy master Aymon wante
thee." At once the creature stopped. All the fierce
ness of his nature seemed to leave him. He rubbed
his nose gently against the dwarf's shoulder, and whin-
nied softly, as if in answer to what had been spoken.
The next moment Malagis sprang upon the back of
Bayard.
" To Duke Aymon ! " he cried.
At one bound the horse leaped out of the enclosure,
and was soon racing, with the speed of the wind, through
the mountain passes and the valleys, and the forests and
morasses, joyfully hastening back toward the well-known
wood of Ardennes. When the master smith, Vulcan,
saw how he had been outwitted, he summoned his gob-
lin host, and sent them in pursuit of the daring wizard.
Forth from the smoking chimney of the mountain they
rushed ; swiftly through the air they were borne, riding
on the back of a huge storm cloud. The winds roared,
lightning flashed, the thunder rolled., the air seemed
full of evil creatures. But Malagis rode fearlessly
onward, swifter than the storm cloud, swifter than the
wind, and paused not once until he reached Duke
Aymon's castle. In the mean while the duke had met
with many sad misfortunes. He had been beaten in
battle, and his best men had been slain. Some in whom
Reinold of Montalban* 14 i
- "•*j"™^^^*^^™^""-™^^^"^™™™" -* -1-- T '
he had trusted as friends had deserted him. He was
on the point of giving up the struggle, and throwing
himself upon the mercy of Charlemagne. Great, then,
was his joy when he saw the faithful Malagis return
with Bayard.
" My wise, trusted cousin ! ' he cried. " My noble
war steed 1 Once more fortune smiles upon me,"
And fortune did smile upon him. The neighboring
barons came to his help, and many a stronghold and
many a fair province of France acknowledged his mas-
tership. At length Charlemagne, tired of the profitless
war, offered to make peace with Duke Aymon. He
promised to give back to his rebellious vaasal all the
fiefs, all the lands and castles and burghs, that he had
held before, and to receive him again at court with all
the honors due to a brother-in-law of the king.
" And what compensation will he offer for the death
of my brother Sir Bevis ? " asked the proud duke.
" He will pay thee four times the weight of the mur-
dered Bevis in gold," answered the king's messengers.
*' It is not enough/' answered Aymon. " My brother
was a gentle and right noble baron, and no paltry blood-
&ne such as is paid for the death of a common knight
mil suffice. Let the gold be six times the weight of
the slain Sir Bevis. On no other terms will I make
peace."
When Duke Aymon's answer was carried to Charle
magne, the king for a long time hesitated, for he likecl
the payment of so heavy a blood-fine But at last
142 The Story of Roland.
through the advice of the wise Namon, peace was con-
cluded; and Aymon and his four sons, now all stalwart
young knights, were restored to their old places of
trust and honor. But Aymon could not rest in idle-
ness; neither did he love peace. He longed to do some
great deed of arms that would make his name known
and feared among men. So at last, when he could no
longer endure the life of inaction which he was obliged
to lead in France, he crossed over the Pyrenees into
Spain, and engaged in warfare with the Moors.
For many years no news of Duke Aymon was car-
ried back to France, and the Princess Ay a and her four
sons mourned him as dead. But one day there came
a messenger to Ardennes, saying that the long-absent
duke was lying ill at an inn in Gascony, and that he
prayed to see once more his wife and children. With-
out delay, Aya and her sons hastened to his side. They
found not the stalwart warrior as they had last seen
him, but a feeble old man, gray-bearded, tanned, and
weather-beaten. Yet Aya recognized in him her long-
errant husband, and the three elder sons embraced
him tenderly as their father. But Reinold stood back,
doubtfully hesitating.
'Who is this worn-out warrior?' asked he. 'Me-
thinks he cannot be my father; for Duke Aymon is a
hero, and this is but a man of common mould."
'Young man," said Aymon, sitting upright in his
bed, "if you remember not my face, look upon this ring,
which your mother gave me in the days of our youth;
Reinold of Montalban. 143
look, too, upon these scars, which were given roe in
battle, and which you certainly cannot have forgotten."
"And think you that I would be deceived?" asked
Aya. " Never was there a nobler duke than your father."
"Yes, mother," cried Reinold, "I know him now,'5
And he seized his father in his arms, and squeezed hirr
so heartily, that the old warrior was glad to be released
Duke Aymon brought great wealth from Spain, and
divided it equally among the Princess Aya and his three
eldest sons. But to Reinold he gave as his portion
the horse Bayard and the sword Flamberge, With kind
nursing and constant care, his strength came back, and
in a few weeks ne was well enough to return with his
family to his old home in Ardennes.
Not long after this the king held a great tournament
at Aix ; and the bravest warriors, the noblest knights,
and the fairest ladies of the land, were there. To this
tournament went the four sons of Aymon, glorying in
their strength and skill ; and save Roland, and Ogier
the Dane, there were none who dared hold a lance to
them, or make trial with them of any knightly feats of
arms. The young men about the court looked upon
them with feelings of bitter jealousy ; and Chariot the
king's son, and Bertholais his nephew, plotted how they
might bring them to grief. And Ganelon the mischief
maker, when they asked his advice, said, —
14 Challenge one of the brothers to a contest If you
gain the better of him, it will be easy to slay him as if
it were by accident"
?44 The Story of Roland.
" That would be too great a risk," answered Chariot,
" The sons of Aymon have not their equals in the lists,
and not one of them has yet been worsted. The praises
of the hated Reinold are in the mouths of all those
who attended the tournament yesterday, and they say
that his brothers are as skilful and as strong as he."
Ganelon smiled, and stood for a moment silent. Then
he said, " It is not likely that they excel in all kinds of
games. A good j ouster is not commonly a good chess-
player. Now, what I advise you to do is this : do you,
Bertholais, send a challenge to Allard, the eldest of the
brothers, to play a quiet game with you, and let each of
you wager his head on the result. You have never been
beaten at chess, and it is not possible that you should
!>e. By this means you may rid yourselves of one of
the brothers, and at the same time disgrace the others."
Chariot and Bertholais were delighted with the cun-
ning words of Ganelon, and at once sent a challenge to
Allard. But Allard was loath to play a game on condi-
tions such as those. He was not afraid for his own
sake ; but he said, that, if he should win, he would not
wish to harm the head of his cousin Bertholais,
" Thou art a coward \ " said Chariot. " Thou fearest
for thine own head 1 *f
Then at last the young hero, much against his willt
agreed to play with Bertholais,
They sat down at the table to play. On one side
stood the three umpires chosen by Allard : they were
Roland, Ogier the Dane, and Duke Namon. On the
Reinold of Montalban. 145
other side stood the friends of Bertholais, — Chariot,
Ganelon, and young Pinabel of Mayence. The chess-
men with which Allard played were of silver, but
those of Bertholais were golden. Five games were
played ; and, much to the astonishment of all, the boast-
ful Bertholais was checkmated in every one. Then
Allard arose from the table.
" I shall not claim the stakes," said he mildly. " I
played only for the sake of my own life and good name.
And on no account would I harm the head of the prince
my cousin."
Bertholais was boiling over with wrath. He seized
the chessboard, and struck Allard in the face with all
'his might Blood flowed from the mouth and nose of
the hero, and ran down upon his clothing. Yet, not
wishing to provoke a greater quarrel, he turned about,
and left the room. As he crossed the courtyard, he
met his brother Reinold. Great was the wrath of Rei-
nold when he heard what had happened.
" Saddle your horses, and be ready to ride with me ! "
he cried to his brothers and friends, — " Allard, my good
fellow, I will have the stakes for which you played ! r
Boldly he walked into -the presence-chamber of the
king.
"I have come," said he, "to claim the blood-fine that
is due for the death of my uncle Bevis. Six times his
weight in gold was promised, but it has never been
paid."
It was now Charlemagne's turn to be angry. He
The Story of Roland.
said not a word ; but he pulle d ofif his steel gauntlet,
and threw it into the face of the too bold Reinold.
" If thou wert not the king," said the knight, " thou
shouldst fight me on that challenge."
As he left the hall, he met the unlucky Bertholais.
He drew his sword Flamberge, and with one stroke
severed the prince's head from his body. A great
uproar arose in the palace, but no one seemed to know
what to do.
" Seize the villain ! * cried Charlemagne. " He shall
be hanged as a vile thief and murderer."
But his brethren were in the courtyard, already
mounted ; and Bayard was there, waiting to carry him,
swifter than the wind, out of harm's way. At once
there was a great hue and cry. A thousand men-
at-arms, mounted on the fleetest steeds, gave chase.
Reinold might have escaped, but he would not leave
his brothers. Outside of the city they were overtaken.
A desperate fight took place. All the followers of the
four brothers were either slain or taken prisoners ; and
all their horses, save Bayard alone, were killed. Seeing
matters in so desperate a strait, Reinold bade his
brothers mount behind him on Bayard's long back
Quickly they obeyed him ; and the noble horse galloped
away with the speed of a storm cloud, bearing his four-
fold burden far beyond the reach of Charlemagne's
avengeful anger.1
For seven years did the four brothers wander as out*
" S«e Note 10 at tho «&d *f this volume.
Reinold of Montaiban. 147
laws in the wood of Ardennes. Their father, Duke
Aymon, was loyal to the king, and would not give them
aught of comfort or of aid. Great was their poverty
and distress, and they suffered much from hunger and
cold and wretchedness. But the wonderful horse Bay-
•ard was their best friend : he kept as big and as fat as
ever, and thrived as well on dry leaves as other horses
do on oats and corn. At last the brothers, tired of
living where every man's hand seemed to be raised
against them, escaped from the wood of Ardennes, and
came into the border land of Spain. There they sought
the friendship and protection of a Moorish chief named
Ivo. Right gladly did the Pagans receive them, for the
fame of their daring had gone before them. They were
taken into the household of Ivo, and for three years
they served him loyally and well. And so great was the
favor with which the Moor looked upon Reinold, that
he gave him his only daughter Clarissa in marriage, and
the richest lands among the Pyrenees as a fief. And
Reinold built on one of the hills a beautiful and strong
fortress of white marble which he called Montalban.
And there he gathered around him a great number of
warriors, knights, and adventurers, — Pagans, as well as
Christians, — and set himself up as the king of the
conn try round about. And oftentimes he had given aid
to the Moors in their wars against Charlemagne.
And now the king had resolved, if possible, to humble
hia outlawed nephews, and to punish them for their
148 The Story of Roland.
crimes and rebellious doings. And it was for this rea-
son, that, as we have seen, he halted in his pursuit of
Mar sin us and his host, and made ready to besiege
liontalban.
Malagis the Wizard.
ADVENTURE XI L
MALAGIS THE WIZARD.
FOR a whole month the host of Charlemagne lay
encamped in the neighborhood of Montalban. But the
proud white castle which shone so clear upon the
mountain top was so strongly fortified, and the roadt.
which led to it were so steep and narrow, that it was
impossible to reach even its outer walls. Nor could
they by any means shut up the garrison, or hinder them
from getting food and recruits from their Pagan friends
on the other side of the moutains.
" It is folly to besiege the eagle in his eyry," said
Roland.
"You speak wisely/1 answered the king. "And
while we are here idly watching this stronghold, where
four rebels lie secure, a score of other traitors are
plotting mischief in other parts of our kingdom. To-
morrow we will try a stratagem ; and, if then we fail,
we will give up this undertaking, and hie us back to
Paris."
The next morning the watchman who stood above the
gates of Montalban saw the French army on the move.
150 The Story of Roland.
A long line of steel-clad warriors, with the golden Ori
flamrne at their head, filed slowly past the foot of the
mountain, and turned down the valley road which led
back into France.
" Up, Reinold ! ' cried Allard. " Our enemies have
abandoned the siege ! Outwitted and ashamed, the)
go back to their homes. Let us saddle our steeds, and
follow in their wake, and harass them on the road."
"Do no such thing!" said the dwarf Malagis. "They
would draw you away from your safe stronghold, and
lead you into an ambush. Let them march away
quietly ; and, when they see that you are too wise to fall
into their trap, they will return into France, and annoy
you no more. The king has enough to do to attend to
his affairs at Paris, without wasting the whole summer
here."
Through all their troubles, Malagis had been the firm
friend of his cousins, the four sons of Aymon. And
he was able sometimes to be of great use to them ; for
men looked upon him as a being of more than human
power and knowledge, and he was allowed to pass
from place to place, and from camp to camp, without
quesnon and without hinderance. Sometimes he was
with Charlemagne, sometimes he was with the brothers ;
but oftener he was wandering hither and thither ir»
company, as men believed, with his kinsfolk, — the
wood sprites and the mountain goblins.
"Thou sayest wisely, my elfin cousin," said Reinold
" But, now that our foes have left us once more in quiet.
Malagis the Wizard. 151
there is one duty that I must do without delay. It is
full ten years since I saw my mother, the Princess Ayat
Above all things else in life, I long to see her once
more ; and I know that her tender heart yearns to meet
her wayward sons again. I will dress me in a pilgrim's
garb ; and I will go now to the old home at Dordon
and make myself known to her."
" We will go with you ! ' cried all three of his
brothers.
A few days after this, four humble pilgrims stood at
the gate of the castle at Dordon. So poor they were,
that there was scarcely a whole thread of cloth on their
backs; and they seemed footsore with their long jour-
neying, and weak from much fasting. They begged,
that, for the love of Him who died on the cross, they
might be given a crust of bread, and be allowed to rest
for the night on the hard stones of the kitchen floor.
The gentle Aya, when she was told how they stood at
the gate, bade them to be brought into her presence.
Much affrighted was she at their haggard faces, and
bold, determined looks.
" These are no common pilgrims," said she ; and yet
her heart was strangely moved toward them. And she
gave them food and clothing, and saw that every thing
was done that could add to their comfort.
"This I do," said she, "for the love of God, the
Gentle Father, who I pray may save my sons from dan-
ger and death. For I have not seen them these ten
years/'
1 52 The Story of Roland.
"How is that?" asked one of the pilgrims. "Tell
us about your sons."
Then Aya began to tell the story of the sad misfor-
tunes that had driven her sons into exile and caused
her so many years of anxiety and sorrow. But, as she
gpoke, the tallest of the four pilgrims withdrew hia
cow! from his head, and displayed a strange scar in
the middle of his forehead The princess started with
surprise.
" Reinold 1 " she cried. " Fair son, if it be indeed
thou, tell it me at once."
The great heart of the hero was too full for speech.
He wept. The gentle mother knew now that these
were her sons who stood before her. Weeping with
great joy, she fell into Reinold's arms : tenderly they
kissed her a hundred times over. Not one of them
could speak a word, for aught that lives.
And the princess made a feast for her sons in the
banquet hall. And she set before them all that was
rarest and best in the way of meat and drink, — veni-
son and fish and fowl, and white wine and red in a
great cup. And she herself waited on them at table.
While they were eating, Duke Aymon came home from
hunting.
" Who are these men who eat like lords, but who are
dressed like holy pilgrims ? " he asked as he walked
suddenly into the banquet room.
The Princess Aya, weeping, answered, —
"They are your sons, the long-lost heroes of
Malagis the Wizard. 153
house. They hive braved every danger to see their
mother once again. And I have given them shelter
this one night, and food such as the sons of Duke
Aymon should eat. When the morning dawns they
will go away, and I know not if in all my life I shall
see them again."
The iron -hearted duke was in truth pleased to see his
sons, but with him duty was stronger than love. He
tried to forget that he was a father, and to remember
only that he was a knight, and a loyal vassal of the
king. Roughly he spoke to the young men.
" Out upon you, you traitors ! ' he cried. " My
castle is no abiding place for men who make war upon
Charlemagne and his knights. You are no sons of
mine. No favors shall ye seek of me."
Right angry was the courteous Reinold to hear these
words from his father's lips. He sprang from the table.
Had any other knight spoken thus, he would have made
him rue it. But he checked his fiery temper.
" Baron," said the hero, " it is hard to hear one who
should keep us and help us, through bad report as well
as good, talk thus harshly and unreasonably. It is
maddening to know that you thus disherit us foi tne
sake of the most selfish of kings."
Duke Aymon's love now got the better of his loyalty,
For a time he could not speak for weeping. Then he
said, " Reinold, very worthy son of baron art thou. I
know not thy peer on earth. But for my oathys sake
I dare not s^ve you aught of aid or comfort."
£54 2^ Story of Roland.
And very sorrowfully the duke turned away, and left
the hall. And he mounted his steed, and rode away.
And he came not back to Dordon until he heard that
th'e king had pardoned his sons.
After he had gone, Reinold and his brothers laitl
aside their pilgrim garbs, and dressed themselves in
af parel befitting their rank. And their mother gave
them of her gold and silver, which she had in great
abundance. And messengers were sent out into the
city and into the countryside, to make it known to
all men who were dissatisfied with the king and his
doings, that the four sons of Aymon were resting for
the night in their father's castle.
" Let all who would aid them against the tyranny of
Charlemagne/' said the messengers, "arm themselves,
and join them, without delay."
At dawn the heroes rode boldly out of Dordon, and
behind them followed seven hundred noble knights who
had vowed to see them safe again in their mountain
home of Montalban. On their way they were over-
taken by the dwarf Malagis, who had with him four
sumterloads of gold and silver. He had just come
from the king's court at Paris. But, when he was
asked where he had gotten the treasure which he
brought, he said, —
44 The mountain goblins and the wood sprites have
sent a part of their secret hoard to the heroes of
Montalban/'
Malagis the Wizard, 155
When Charlemagne learned that the sons of Ayraon
had so boldly visited their mother at Dordon, and that
they had gone back to their mountain stronghold with
so great a following, his wrath waxed very hot, and he
called his peers together to ask their advice. Duke
Namon and Roland were in favor of peace.
" Grant the four knights your forgiveness," said they,
" and you will gain four very powerful vassals, who will
be of great help to you in your wars against the
Saracens."
But Ganelon, the cunning mischief-maker, arose and
said, "The king will scarcely humble himself by making
terms with traitors. It would be better to try one
more stratagem at least, ere we acknowledge ourselves
outwitted by them. Now, there is the old Moorish
chief, Ivo, the father-in-law of Reinold. He loves noth-
ing so much as money. He would sell his own children
for gold. If we could only gain his friendship, he
might be persuaded to betray the four brothers into
our hands."
Charlemagne was delighted with this cunning sug-
gestion : it pleased him better than the wiser plans for
peace which Roland and Duke Namon had proposed
Secret messengers were at once sent to Chief Ivo with
rich presents of gold and jewels, and promises of much
more, if he would betray the four sons of Aymon.
Ganelon was right when he had spoken of Ivo's great
love of money. He listened eagerly to the offers of
king's messengers; and his heart grew black, and
56 The Story of Roland.
bis long fingers itched for the promised rewards. And,
without a single twitch of conscience, he agreed to sell
Reinold and his brothers, and their mountain fortress,
to the king.
One day the faithless Ivo went to Montalban, as hg
had been wont to do, to see his daughter Clarissaj and
to talk with the hero brothers. He had just come from
Paris, he said, and he brought glad news.
" Would you like to make peace with your uncle the
king ? "
" Nothing would gladden our hearts more," said Rei-
nold. "It is hard to live thus outlawed and hunted
down by our own kinsmen and those who should be
our friends."
Then Ivo, with smooth, lying words, told them that
the king had offered to let all bygones be bygones, and
to receive them into the highest favor at his court, if
they would only prove their sincerity by a single act
of submission,
" What is it ? " asked they. " We will sacrifice every
thing except our lives and our knightly honor, in order
that there may be peace between us and the king."
" It is only this," said the cunning Ivo. " It is that
you dress yourselves in the garb of pilgrims, like that
which you wore when you visited your mother at Dor
don, and that, barefooted and unarmed, you ride to the
fortress of Falkalone, and there do homage to the king,
begging his forgiveness.'*
"That is easily done," said Reinoid. "It is not half
Malagis the Wizard, 157
so hard a penance as we have suffered these ten years
past. You may tell the king that we will do as he
desires, for we are sadly tired of this strife."
A few weeks after this, a messenger came to Mon-
fcalban, bringing word that the king with his peers had
some to the castle of Falkalone, and that he waited
there the submission of Reinold and his brothers.
The four knights at once made ready to obey the sum
mons. They donned their pilgrims' garbs, and, bare-
footed and unarmed, mounted the donkeys which were
to carry them across the mountains. Then Clarissa.
the wife of Reinold, prayed them not to go.
" My father, Chief Ivo," said she, "would stoop to any
dteed of treachery for the sake of gold. And my heart
tells me that he is luring you to Falkalone to betray
you. I beg you not to go thus unarmed into the lion's
power."
But Reinold would not listen to his fair wife.
" An ungrateful daughter you are," said he, " thus to
accuse your father of the basest crime of which a
warrior can be guilty. I have ever found him trust-
worthy, and I will not now believe him to be false."
With these words he turned, and rode out through
the castle gate, not even bidding Clarissa good-by.
Richard and Guichard followed him, but Allard tarried
a few moments in the courtyard.
" Take these good friends with you," said Clarissa
"you will have need of them, if I mistake not." And
she handed him four swords, among which was Rei
nold's Flamberge.
158 The Story of Rolavut.
Allard thanked the lady; and, taking the good wea-
pons, he hid them carefully beneath his penitent's
robe. Then giving whip to his donkey, he followed
his brothers down the steep mountain road which led
toward Falkalone.
As the heroes were passing through a narrow glen
not more than a league from Falkalone, they were set
upon by a party of horsemen who lay in ambush there.
Then it was that Reinold thought of fair Clarissa's
warning words, and bitterly he repented that he had
not hearkened to her advice. But Allard quickly divid-
ed the swords among them ; and, when Reinold saw
his old friend Flamberge once more in his hand, his
fears vanished, and he stood boldly on guard against
his foes. But how could four men, mounted only on
donkeys, and armed only with swords, defend them-
selves from the onset of threescore steel-clad knights
on horseback ? Allard, Guichard, and Richard were
soon overthrown, and made prisoners. What would
Reinold not have given for a stout lance, arid his trusty
*#ar steed Bayard, at that moment? Yet bravely he
fought, and more than one of his foes bit the dust.
At last night came on ; and, while the others were grop-
ng in the dusk, he turned his donkey about, and,
ds he knew the road well, he made his way safely back
to Montalban.
Reinold expected that Charlemagne would again lay
siege to his mountain castle, and try to gain by force
what he had partly failed to gain by guile. He there-
Malagis the Wizard, 15$
fore doubled the guards on the walls, and sent out com
panics of armed men to watch every turn of the narrow
road which led from the valley up to the fortress ; and
on the rocks and high places he caused great heaps of
stones and other missiles to be piled, ready to b%
thrown down on the heads of any foes who should dare
approach too near. But, at the very moment when
the king was ready to begin the assault on Montalban,
messengers came to him from Paris, bringing news
which made it necessary for him to return home with-
out further delay.
" Let the three rebels whom we have taken," said he,
"be carried back with us in chains to Paris. As soon
as our leisure serves us, they shall be hanged like so
many thieves. Their fate will be a warning to all
other traitors."
Then Reinold, when he heard it, resolved that he
would at all hazards save the lives of his brothers. So
he mounted his good steed Bayard, and set out alone
for Paris. One day, at the noontide hour, he stopped
to rest in the cool shade of a great oak. The sun shone
very hot ; the grass upon which he reclined was green
and soft ; the bees hummed drowsily among the leaves
overhead ; every thing was so calm and still, that, before
Reinold knew it, he had fallen asleep. And Bayard,
pleased with the pasturage which spread around, left
his master's side, and wandered hither and thither,
grazing the sweetest clover and the freshest leaves of
grass It so happened that some country folk who
i6o Tfo Story of Roland.
passing that way saw the horse ; and one of them, whc
had been at Dordon, said, —
" See there ! I verily believe that steed is Bayard."
But the others laughed at him.
"At any rate," said he, "he is a rich prize. Se« the
gold-red saddle on his back, the golden stirrups at his
sides, and the silken reins that rest upon his neck. He
belongs to no common knight. I mean to take him to
Paris, and claim a reward for having found him. He
would be a handsome gift to present to the king/'
Now, this man was no common countryman, or he:
would not have dared think of touching so rare and
rich a prize ; nor could he, without the help of magic,
have come near the horse. But he had seen something
of the world ; and in his youth he had lived some time
with an old wizard, from whom he had learned some
thing of witchery and enchantment So, as he drew
near the grazing horse, he mumbled many strange,
uncouth words, and scattered a fine white powder to
the winds. Yet, even with all these precautions, it was
with the greatest difficulty that he caught hold of the
reins of Bayard, and seated himself on his back. The
horse at once set off at a full gallop toward Paris ; and
so swift was his passage, that early the next morning he
stood in the courtyard of the king's palace.
When word was brought to Charlemagne, that Bayard,
the matchless steed of the Montalban hero, was at the
door, he could not believe it. But when he went out*
and saw for himself that horse, the like of which there
Malagis the Wizard. 161
was none on earth, his joy was greater than if it had
been Reinold himself.
" Verily, this horse is worth more than a province ! '
said he.
And he at once conferred the honor of knighthood
apon the countryman, loading him with rich presents of
gold and silver, and giving him as a fief the lands and
castles of the dead Duke Gilmer of Vermandois.
Now let us go back to Reinold, whom we left sleep-
ing in the shade of the friendly oak. When he awoke*
the sun was sloping far down toward the west. He had
never before slept so long and so carelessly by the road-
side. He arose and looked around. His steed was
nowhere to be seen. He called him, at first softly, then
very loudly, " Bayard ! ' He listened to hear the shrill
whinny with which the horse always answered his call.
And when no sound came back save the echo of his
own anxious voice, then Reinold knew that Bayard
was lost, and he threw himself in despair upon the
ground,
" What need to live longer," said he, " when I have
fost every living being that I loved? False fealty,
force, and fraud have deprived me of a father's love, of
a. mother's caresses, of rny brothers' companionship.
I have not kith nor kin to whom I may go for sympathy
and fellowship. And now my horse, whom I loved as
% fourth brother, has been stolen from me."
As he spoke, his eyes fell upon his gx>lden spurs, the
The Story of Rolana.
symbol of his knighthood. He seized them in his
hands, and wrenched them from his ankles.
"What need of these, when Bayard is gone!" be
cried. "Without a hojse, I am no longer a knight."
" Good-day to you, my lord ! ' said a shrill, harsh
voice at his elbow.
He looked up, and saw a little old man, bent almost
double with the infirmities of age, standing very close
to him, and gazing at him with a strange, quizzical look
on his little dried-up features. The old man was dressed
in the garb of a begging pilgrim, his long white beard
fell in tangled masses halfway to his feet, and his twin-
kling gray eyes were almost hidden beneath his heavy
white eyebrows.
" Good-day to you, my lord ! ' he said a second time,
bowing very low,
" It may be a good day to you, old man," said Rei-
nold. " But, as for me, I have scarcely known a good
day in all my life."
" My lord," said the pilgrim, "why should your heart
lose hope ? Do but give me a present as a token of
your faith, and I will pray Heaven to help you. Prayer
is the poor man's defence, and it has sometimes re
lieved the rich and the great from their distresses,"
"Your prayers may do me much good," answered
Reinold ; " but I have no faith in them, nor indeed in
aught else. Yet no beggar has ever gone away from
me empty-handed. Here are my spurs, the priceless
gifts that my mother buckled to my ankles on the da>
Malagis the Wizard. 163
that I was dubbed a knight. Take them : I shall neve?
wear them again."
The pilgrim took the spurs, and, bowing low, said,
ij My lord, these spurs may be worth ten pounds ; but
my prayers are worth much more. Have you nothiag
slse to give ? *'
Reinold's down-heartedness began now to give place
to anger. "A fig for your prayers!' answered he
" Tf it were not for your gray hairs, I would give you
a sound drubbing for a present.'
"Ah, good sir," said the old man, "it is not thus
that Christians give alms to pious pilgrims. If every
one of whom I have begged had beaten me, the churches
and the convents would have been but poorly furnished.
But some have shared their last crust with me, and great
has been their reward. Therefore, I ask thee again, if
thou hast any thing to spare, give it me."
Then Reinold took off his mantle, — a beautiful gar-
ment of velvet, embroidered with silk and gold, — and
gave it to the pilgrim.
" Take this/' said he. " It is the last gift of my wife,
the charming Clarissa, the fair Pagan, whose love fo?
me is, I fear, greater and more sincere than I deserve."
The old man folded the mantle carefully, and put it in
&is wallet Then, with another low bow, he said, ** My
lord, have you nothing else that you would give me for
the sake of kind remembrance ?
Reinold's wrath now got the better of him, Fiercch
he drew Flamberge from his scabbard. He seized the
i $4 The Story of Roland.
pilgrim by the beard. "Wouldst thou rob me?" fa«
cried. " Even thy age shall not save thee ! '
The old man quietly pushed back his hood. His long
beard fell off in Reinold's grasp. He looked at the
hero with a smile,
" Good Sir Reinold," said he, " wouldst thou slay tky
cousin Malagis ? '
It was indeed the wizard dwarf Malagis, who, for
some reason best known to himself, had chosen to come
before Reinold in this disguise.
" Cheer up, brave cousin ! " said he. " Faith and hope
have brought about greater wonders than the wizard's
wand ever accomplished. But despair has never yet
gained a victory. Your brothers are prisoners in the
king's castle, and Bayard is on his way to Paris. But,
if you will trust me, all will yet be well."
He then took from his wallet an old gown, like that
which he himself wore, and bade Reinold put it on over
his armor, instead of the rich mantle which he had just
given away. He unlaced his helmet, and hid it in a
clump of shrubs, and, instead of it, he drew over his
head a ragged gray hood, which hid more than half his
face beneath its folds. A false beard and a few touches
of paint were all that was needed now to change the
hero into the likeness of a pious pilgrim.
"Malagis," said Reinold, embracing the wizard, "thou
art truly a godsend ! I believe in thee."
A few days after this, two pilgrims, old and lame,
limped through the streets of Paris, begging alms of the
Malagis the Wizard. 165
good people whom they met They stood on the bridge
over the Seine, and watched a grand procession of lords
and ladies crossing the river, on their way to a tour
nament which was to be held in the meadows on the
other side.
" Put on your spurs, cousin," said the wizard ; " fu*
believe me, you will soon need them."
By and by a great shouting was heard ; and the king
was seen riding toward the bridge, with Roland and tht
other peers in his train. In front of him was the great
war steed Bayard, led by four stout grooms. The horse
was most richly apparelled. The bridle was of silvei
and gold, with reins of fine sable and silk-covered
leather ; the saddle was wonderfully wrought of leather
and cloth and rare metals ; and over all were trappings
of crimson velvet bordered with cloth-of-gold, on which
fair ladies' fingers had deftly embroidered the white
lilies of France. It was hard to tell which the people
applauded more, • — the grand old king who sat so proudly
on his own charger, or the noble steed who walked
before him like the monarch of his kind.
"They are leading the horse to the lists," said b
monk who stood near. " The knights are there to make
trial of their skill in mounting and riding him, and he
who succeeds best is to have him as a present from the
king."
"When will kings cease to give away the things that
not belong to them ? " asked Malagis.
All at once the horse was noticed to stop. He had
1 66 The Story of Roland.
seen the poor pilgrims on the bridge. With a sudden
toss of the head he jerked away from the grooms ; and,
neighing joy tally, he ran forward, and laid his head on
Reinold's shoulder.
" Never saw I such a horse as Bayard/* said Roland
to the king. " He seems to scorn our company, and to
like those ragged beggars better than knights and noble-
men/
"Come, Bayard," said the king, riding forward and
laying his hand on the reins. " Thou shouldst be more
choice of thy comrades/'
" And is this, indeed, Bayard ? ' asked one of the
pilgrims. " How lucky we are to happen here at this
moment ! '
Then, turning to Charlemagne, he said, " Most gra-
cious king, I pray you to grant us a boon. This my
poor brother has been deaf and dumb and blind these
many days, and there is in life no joy for him. He
wanders with me from place to place in great distress ;
and, do what he will, he can find no relief. But yester-
day a wizard told me, that, if he could be allowed to ride
even ten steps on the great steed Bayard, he should be
healed."
The king and his courtiers laughed.
"I have half a mind to let him try," said Charle-
magne; "for, although I have heard of miracles. I have
never yet seen one/'
"Even if he should not be healed," said Roland "it
would be equally a miracle. It would be as wonderful
Malagis the Wizard, 167
to see a cripple ride the great Bayard as to see the blind
restored to sight."
Then, by the king's command, the grooms lifted
the supposed pilgrim into the saddle. Men wondered
why the horse should stand so gently, and allow himself
to be backed by the awkward, ragged beggar, when he
had refused to let the noblest barons put feet in his
stirrups. But their wonder grew to astonishment when
the dumb pilgrim spoke the word ' Bayard ! ' and the
horse, with his rider sitting gracefully in the saddle,
dashed across the bridge and galloped away more swiftly
than horse had ever before been known to gallop. The
king and all his peers put spurs to their steeds, and
followed. But in less than a minute the wonderful
Bayard was out of sight, and none of his pursuers saw
him again. More swiftly than a bird could fly through
the air, he sped southward over hill and dale and forest
and stream, and stopped not once until he had carried
his master safely back to Montalban.
'Fools that we are !" said the king. 'Again have
we been outwitted by that villain Reinold and his
cunning cousin Malagis. If ever the wizard comes
within my reach, he shall suffer for this."
But Malagis had taken care to slip away during the
confusion ; and, though the king ordered that search
should everywhere be made for him, he was not to be
found in Paris.
That same night a little man dressed in gray made
his way, silent and unseen, to the prison tower of the
1 68 The Story of Roland.
king's castle. The guards before the doors were asleep,
and the sentinels who stood on the ramparts above
nodded at their posts. He touched the great oaken
doors. The iron bolts flew back with a faint click ; the
chains were unfastened without a rattle; the doors
turned silently on their hinges. Some men say that
the cunning wizard, for it was Malagis, did all this
through magic : others say that he had bribed the
watchmen. Be this as it may, he had no trouble in
finding his way to a narrow dungeon, where the air
seemed heavy and cold, and the water oozed and trickled
through the ceiling, and the horrible gloom of the
grave seemed to brood over all. There three men were
chained to the wall. They were Allard, Guichard, and
Richard. When they heard him enter, they supposed
it was the jailer, come to lead them out to their death
And they were glad, for death in any shape would have
been better than life in such a place. The wizard
touched them, and their chains fell from their limbs.
He must have had the jailer's keys.
"Up, cousins!" he cried. "You are saved. I am
Malagis. Follow me."
Silently they groped their way out of the prison. At
the castle gate four fleet horses, ready saddled, waited
for them. They mounted them, and, ere the morning
dawned, were many leagues away from Paris, riding
straight for Montalban.
Very angry was the king when he learned, next day,
Malagis the Wizard. 169
that he had been again outwitted, and that the sons of
Aymon had escaped. He vowed that he would not
rest, nor cease his efforts, until he had dined in the
broad feast hall of Montalban. And he called together
his host, and marched with all haste back, for the third
time, to the country of the Pyrenees.
The mountain stronghold was surrounded on every
side by the men of Charlemagne. Every road and
every pass leading to it were carefully guarded. The
king knew that he could never reach the walls, or hope
to carry the place by assault, and therefore that the
only way to capture it was to starve the garrison into
surrender. Yet week after week passed by, and neither
party seemed to gain any advantage over the other.
Once a company of knights, under Reinold, made a
sally into the plain below, and had a brief passage-at-
arms with some of Charlemagne's men. Roland and
Reinold measured their lances with each other ; and
Roland, for the first and only time in his life, was
unhorsed.
" Ah, good cousin ! ' cried Reinold, " that was your
horse's failure, and no fault of yours. "
And he at once called off his men, and rode back
to the castle. Roland was very much grieved at the
disgrace of his fall : but, instead of feeling angry, he
cherished the warmest feelings of friendship for his
gallant cousin ; and he vowed, that, if ever the king
should forgive Reinold, he would love him next *o
Oliver, and Ogier the Dane.
170 The Story of Roland.
It happened one night, that Malagis — as, indeed, he
had often done before — went out as a spy into Charle-
magne's camp. The soldiers were sleeping quietly in
their tents ; and, as the wizard crept stealthily from one
place to another, he threw a white sleeping powder into
the air, which caused even the most watchful sentinels
to close their eyes. Thus he made his way into the
very heart of the camp ; and, without any fear of awaken-
ing the sleepers, he stood in the door of the king's
tent. Suddenly, and to his great surprise, he felt him-
self seized by the collar, and lifted from the ground.
He looked around, and saw that he was in the strong
grasp of Oliver, who, from some reason which the wiz-
ard could never understand, was not made drowsy by
the sleeping powders. Malagis earnestly begged the
knight to set him free. But Oliver would not listen to
a word. He aroused the sleepers in the tent, and car-
ried the struggling dwarf into the king's presence.
"Ah, thou cunning wizard !" cried the king, "I have
thee at last ! Arid, even though the unseen powers be
on thy side, thou shalt not get off easily."
Then he ordered Malagis to be bound and carried
out of the camp and thrown from the top of a precipice.
" My lord," said the wizard, " I have but one favor
to ask of you. Let me live long enough to sit once
more with you and your peers at the banquet table."
"It shall be as thou desirest," said the king; "but
tny life shall not be much the longer thereby/'
Then he ordered a feast to be made ready at
Malagis the Wizard. 171
and he sent out and invited the noblest of his barons
to come and eat with him. It was midnight when the
king and his knights sat down to supper, and much di«
they enjoy the good food and the rich wine which
were placed before them. But soon they began to fee!
drowsy. One by one they closed their eyes, and fell
back in their seats fast asleep. In a short time not a
single person in all the camp, save Malagis, was awake.
His eyes twinkled merrily ; and he could not help jump-
ing upon the table, and dancing about in glee, as he saw
how the magic powder had again cast a spell of slumber
over all. Then he stepped softly to the side of the
sleeping Charlemagne ; and, after giving him an extra
pinch of the snuff, he lifted him on his shoulders, and
carried him out of the tent. It was a great burden for
the little man to carry, but we must believe that his
magic increased his strength tenfold as he toiled up
the narrow mountain paths with his kingly burden on
his back.
When he reached the castle, the gate was opened ;
and he carried the king, still fast asleep, into the
broad hall. Great was the astonishment of Reinold
and his brothers when they saw what kind of a prisoner
the dwarf had brought them.
" Your troubles are at an end, my cousins," said he.
" You may now make peace on your own terms."
The king was carried to the best guest chamber in
the castle, and every thing was done that could add **»
his comfort. But he did noc awaken until noon the
172 The Story of Roland,
next day. You may imagine his surprise when he
opened his eyes, and found himself, not, as he supposed,
in his tent, but in a sumptuous castle, furnished as
grandly as his own palace. For a long time he would
not believe but that it was all a dream ; and not until
Reinold and Malagis came into his presence, and told
him where he was, and how he came there, did he re-
cover from his bewilderment. At first he was very
angry, and harshly upbraided them for their treason.
But Reinold did not once forget the courtesy that is
due from a knight to his king. As Charlemagne was
very hungry after his long sleep, he was persuaded to
sit down with the sons of Aymon at the banquet table,
and partake of the choice food and the rare wines with
which Montalban was well supplied. But when the
brothers spoke to him of peace, and prayed that he
would let bygones be bygones, and receive them again
into his kingly favor, he grew angry and morose, and
bade them open the castle gates, and let him go back to
his friends, who were anxiously seeking him in the
valley below.
" Never will I make peace with you ! " he cried.
tg It shall not be said that I have dealt harshly with
the king," said Reinold. " He shall have his freedom ;
and, if our kindness has no power to touch his heart,
then we must still defend ourselves in Montalban,"
And the king went out of the castle, and back to
his own camp, without a word of forgiveness for his
unhappy nephews.
Maiagis the Wizard. 173
As Reinold passed through the courtyard soon after
ward, he saw Maiagis the wizard burning a great heap
of papers and boxes and odd mixtures, and making
strange motions and gestures over them, as the flames
consumed them.
" What are you doing, cousin ? " he asked.
" I am burning all the tools of my trade," said Maia-
gis sadly. " The wizard's art is thrown away upon such
men as you. I am going to leave Montalban, never to
return again. Had you been wise, you would have kept
the king a prisoner, and forced him to grant you peace."
After Charlemagne had gone back to his camp, he
began to think more seriously about this long and
profitless war with his nephews.
" Why not bring it to a close by granting them your
forgiveness ? " asked Roland.
"But my oath," said Charlemagne. "I dare not
forget my oath."
"True," answered Roland. "But what was your
oath ? — that you would not make peace, nor grant your
forgiveness, until you had dined in the banquet hall of
Montalban ? "
" That was my oath, and it shall be remembered."
" But have you not dined to-day in the banquet-hall
of Montalban?"
The king was silent, and he went and shut himself
up alone in his tent. The next day he sent a messen-
ger to the heroes of Montalban, offering to make peace
with them on their own terms, to grant them full par
1 74 The Story of Roland.
don for all past offences, and to restore to them all the
honors, fiefs, and dignities which were theirs by right
And thus the sorrowful wars with Duke Ayraon's sons
were ended.1
i ast tfes
The Princess of Catkay. 173
ADVENTURE Kill
THE PRINCESS OF CATHAY.
IT was the season of Pentecost, and Charlemagne
was holding a great feast and a high tide of rejoicing
at Paris. The city was dressed in holiday attire ; and
there was much banqueting, and music and dancing,
and jousting, and many gallant deeds at arms. And
i:he noblest men and the fairest women in Christendom
had gathered there to do honor to the king and to
share in the glad festivities. For, strange as it may
seem, Charlemagne was now, for the first time in his
reign, at peace with all the world. Neither foes abroad
nor traitors at home dared lift up their heads, or show
their hands.
On the last day of the feast a grand tournament was
held in the meadows ; and the king and his peers, and
the lordly strangers who were visiting at the court.
were there. Some merely sat in the galleries as spec-
tators : others entered the lists as contestants in the
noble passage-at-arms. There might have been seei?
Roland and Oliver, and Ogier the Dane, and Reinold
of Montalban, and wi&s ®!d Duke Namon. and evil-eved
1 76 The Story of Roiand.
Ganelon, and even the cunning wizard Malagis. Therer
too, were the queen and her train of high-born dames,
and the fairest damsels that the sun of France had ever
shone upon. But fairer than all others was the match
less maiden Alda, the betrothed of Roland. And most
worthy among the strangers was a young English
knight named Astolpho, — a poet by birth, and fairer
of face and speech than he was skilful in the use of
arms. There, also, were several Pagan princes, who had
come to Paris either to see and admire the splendor and
the power of the Christian king, or to spy out the weak
points in his government, and determine what his real
strength might be. Chief among these was a dark
faced giant named Ferrau, a prince of Saragossa, who
was said to be the ablest and bravest of all the Saracen
knights in the train of King Marsilius of Spain. But
no one of all the great company who met to view
the tournament there in the Seine meadows could
excel Roland in grace and strength and skill. Many
were the feats at arms that he performed that day, and
in more than one combat was he hailed the victor.
Late in the afternoon, when the heralds had an-
nounced the cessation of the day's amusements, and
the folk were about to leave the place, the sound of a
bugle was heard outside of the lists. And when, by
the king's command, the barriers were thrown open to
admit the new-comer, whoever he might be, there came
a strange procession through. Four giants, taller by
half than the tallest man in Charlemagne's court, pre
The Princess of Cathay. 177
sented themselves, and came directly toward the king.
Their faces were dark and fierce ; and they looked down
upon the knights, who made way for them, with an ill-
hidden expression of scorn. Behind them, on a milk-
white palfrey, rode a young lady. A princess she
seemed, and the most beautiful that Charlemagne or
his knights had ever looked upon. She was dressed in
the fashion of the Far East, and upon her head was a
diadem of pearls ; and the palfrey upon which she sat
was trapped to the foot in blue velvet, bordered with
crimson cloth-of-gold. And by the side of the strange
lady there rode a noble knight, clad in a war coat of
polished brass, upon a war steed harnessed in white
cloth-of-gold, bearing a device of eyes full of tears
And neither knight nor lady looked to the right or to
the left, but followed their huge guides straight toward
the place where the king sat
When Charlemagne first saw the giants coming so
boldly in on foot, he was on the point of ordering them
driven from the lists. But when his eyes rested on the
rare beauty of the strange princess who followed them,
and on the proud form of the knight, her companion,
he allowed them to come very near to him in order
that he might the better see them, and speak with them.
" Who are you ? " he asked. " And why come you
here at this late hour of the day, unheralded and
unknown ? '
The four giants made humble obeisance to the king,
but said not a word. The knight sat upright on his
178 The Story of Roland.
charger, his eyes fixed upon the ground before him, his
face immovable as that of a statue, seeming: neither to
hear nor to see aught that was going- on around him.
But the lady rode forward until she was directly in
front of the high seats. And she courtesied reverently
to the king; and. lifting her peerless eyes towards him.
she said,—
' Right high, right worthy, and right mighty king, I
am Angelica. My father is King Galafron, the ruler
of far-off Cathay ; and he is, next to you, the mightiest
monarch in the world. This young knight who rides
by my side is my brother Argalia, than whom few
braver men are known. By the leave of our kingly
father we have journeyed from the rising sun to the
western sea, viewing the wonders of nature, and the
power of men, and the might of Christendom. And
we seek a knight without fear and without shame, who
will dare meet my brother in honorable act of arms."
At these words several of the knights sprang up,
eager to offer the gage of battle to the new-comer.
But Charlemagne motioned them to be quiet ; and the
Princess Angelica went on : —
'We have heard, most noble king, that you are at
peace with all the world, and for that reason we have
been the more bold to come into your country. And
we had hoped to be here to take part in the passage-at-
arms to-day, but were delayed in the journey. And
now, since the hour is too late for any further jousting,
allow me to challenge you and the bravest of your
The Princess of Catkay. 179
knights to meet my brother Argalia in single combat
with lance to-morrow at the foot of the Stair of
Merlin/'
"We most certainly accept the challenge," said the
king, smiling.
14 But listen to the conditions," said the princess
" Whoever is unhorsed by my brother becomes his law-
ful prisoner, and is held by him as a hostage until he is
ransomed. But, should any knight overcome my brother
in fair fight, that knight may, if he choose, claim me as
his wife, and all my dowry as his reward. For the Fates
have written that this can be done only by the greatest
hero in the world."
All the men who stood near and heard this chal-
lenge were astonished at the strangeness of the terms
which were offered, and yet they were all the more
eager to engage in combat with the young prince.
For, the longer they looked upon the matchless form
and features of Angelica, the more they were enrap-
tured with her heavenly beauty.
" We accept the conditions," said the king graciously.
"To-morrow morning the worthiest warriors in my
realm shall meet thy brother in a trial of arms at the
Stair of Merlin, If any man fail, he forfeits his
freedom. But remember the reward that is promised
the victor ! '
"It is well," answered the princess. "We shall
remember."
Then, saluting the king reverently, she turned hes
1 80 The Story of Roland.
palfrey about, and with her brother followed her giant
escort out of the lists.
And now a great dispute arose among the knightS;
Each one was anxious to be the first to try his strength
and skill in the joust with the Prince of Cathay. Charle
magne, seeing that the question could be settled in no
other way, declared that the whole matter should be
left to chance, and ordered that lots should be drawn.
Thirty-one knights offered themselves, and not one felt
any doubt but that the palm of victory in the coming
contest would be his. Each wrote his name on a bit of
parchment, which he dropped into Roland's helmet
Then the slips were drawn out one by one by a blind-
folded page, and the names were read in their order by
Archbishop Turpin. The first name was that of the
English knight, Astolpho. Everybody smiled when it
was read, — some in disdain, others in ridicule. And
some were so unmannerly as to hint that the fair-haired
foreigner would succeed better in a tourney with min-
strels, with the harp as his weapon instead of the lance.
" Has he ever been known to unhorse his opponent ? f
asked one.
" Never," was the answer. " But he has been known
to tumble from his own steed at the mere sight of a
lance."
The second name drawn was that of the dark-browed
Pagan chief, Ferrau. There was a low murmur of dis-
appointment among the knights; for the fierce Moor
was noted, not only for his great strength, but for his
The Princess of Cathay. 18 1
skill also in every feat of arms. And all felt that Argalia
must indeed acquit himself well if he would come out
whole and well from a combat with so valiant a foe.
" It seems as if these heathen foreigners are to snatch
all the honors out of our hands," said Oliver.
" It shall not be ! ' answered Reinold, biting his lips
in anger.
The third name was that of Ogier the Dane, and
there was a general sigh of relief.
" Another foreigner ! ' said Duke Ganelon disdain-
uilly.
" And yet he is a more loyal Frenchman than thou,"
answered Roland, turning sharply upon the old traitor,
and gazing so fiercely into his face that he was glad to
slink away from the place.
The fourth name was that of Reinold of Montalban ;
and the fifth was that of the king himself. Oliver's
name was the tenth. But Roland, who was burning
with impatience to distinguish himself in a combat like
this, was left until the very last : his name was the
thirty-first. Among all the knights who had offered
themselves as combatants in the act of arms which wa«
about to take place, not one, save Ferrau the fierce Moor,
was satisfied with the lots.
That evening Malagis the wizard opened his book of
enchantments, and sought to find out therefrom what
fortune the Fates had in store for him and his friends
But he desired most to know what would be the end oi
the jousting on the riorrow, and whether aught of hone*
1 82 The Story of Roland.
should accrue to his cousin Reinold of Montalban. Ag
he looked in his book, strange, weird creatures came
and danced before him. Fairies and hobgoblins, good
arid bad, flocked into his chamber, and courtesied and
bowed, and saluted him as their master. And every one
seemed anxious to tell him something, and waited only
for his questions, or for his gracious leave to speak.
Did you ever think, rny children, that there is magic in
every book, and that when you open the pages, good
fairies or wicked elves come and whisper to you ? The
words are the mysterious creatures that salute the magi-
cian who reads ; and they tell him of the wonderful past,
and lay bare for him the secrets of the present and the
future.
Among the ghostly visitors who came at the wizard's
call was a little elf who never had told a falsehood, or
concealed aught that he knew. Of him Malagis asked
many questions about the Princess Angelica and her
brother Argalia. And this is what the elf whispered
in the ear of the cunning wizard, —
"Angelica and Argalia are truly the children of
mighty Galafron, king of Cathay. But they come to
France on no peaceful errand. Their object is to de
stroy the bravest and the best of the Christian knights,
and in the end to overthrow the whole of Christendom.
Do you ask how a beautiful young lady, and a knight
single-handed and alone, can hope to do so great mis-
chief ? It is all very simple. I will tell you. Prince
Argalia carries an enchanted lance, — a beam which is
Princess of Cathay.
sure to unhorse whomsoever it touches, and which has
never been known to fail. His shield is equally wonder-
ful ; for every weapon that comes toward it turns aside
in its course, and refuses to touch it. And he rides a
horse which is as fleet as the hurricane : not even the
famed Bayard can outstrip him. The stoutest warrior
can scarcely hope to contend successfully with such a
foe. But what I have told you is not all. Even should
Argalia be defeated in the joust, it is not likely that the
victor can ever gain the prize which has been promised ;
for the princess carries with her a magic ring the like
of which is not known in your books. When any dan-
ger threatens her, she places this ring in her mouth,
and all at once she vanishes from mortal sight ; and she
is carried with the speed of thought to whatever place
she wishes to go."
When Malagis had learned, all that was to be known
about Angelica and her brother, he closed his book, and
sent his fairy visitors away. And he sat for a long time
alone in his chamber, planning what he should do. At
first he thought of warning the king of the danger
which threatened. But he knew that Charlemagne had
little faith in magic, and that he would only laugh at
his story : so, upon second thought, he made up his
mind to keep the whole matter a secret, and to under-
take alone the task of saving France from the cunning
infidels. When every one in the palace was asleep, and
all was silent and dark, the little man wrapped his long
cloak around him, and stole quietly out of his chamber
184 The Story of Roland,
Under his arm he carried his book of enchantments,
and in his hand he held his wizard's wand, while beneath
his cloak he carried a short sword. Straight to the
Stair of Merlin he went, where he knew he would find
the Princess of Cathay and her noble brother. He had
no trouble in finding the place, even in the dark ; for he
had often been there, in times now long past, to talk
with Merlin, the wise wizard of Britain, from whom he
had learned all his lore.
In the midst of the meadow adjoining the Stair of
Merlin stood a rich pavilion. It was covered with
double blue satin, and rich cloths from India, upon which
were embroidered many strange devices in silver and
gold. And above it floated four and twenty banners
bearing the arms and mottoes of the princes of Cathay.
At the door of this pavilion two swarthy giants stood,
with huge clubs in their hands, and cimeters at their
sides. Fiercely they glared at Malagis as he came
toward them ; and, had he not glared back with some-
thing of the same fierceness, there is no knowing what
mischief they might have done him. But they quailed
beneath the glances of the little old wizard ; and, when
they saw the book which he carried under his arm, they
began to tremble, for ignorance is always thus fearful
in the presence of knowledge. Yet, when Malagis
would have entered the tent, the giants raised their
great bludgeons ; and, although they dared not look him
in the face, they stood ready to strike him down. Then
the wizard waved his wand in the air, and opened his
The Princess of Cathay. 185
book, and began to read. And forthwith the giants
dropped their clubs to the ground, and began to yawn,
And, as he kept on reading, their eyes grew heavy, so
that they could no longer keep them open. And soon
they were fast asleep, and recked not who came in,
or who passed out. Then Malagis walked boldly into
the inner court of the pavilion. Inside of the door he
found the other two giants seated on a bench ; but they
also were fast asleep, and the wizard passed by them
unchallenged. In one part of the pavilion, which was
hung with rich cloth-of-gold, and furnished most gor-
geously, after the manner of the Far East, the charming
Angelica was reclining on her couch ; and near her sat
her maidens and attendants, all wrapped in the deepest
slumber. When Malagis gazed upon the sweet face of
the Pagan princess, he thought that in the whole world
there was not any vision half so lovely. He wondered
if the angels were as beautiful, and he was half tempted
to fall down and worship. Never before had wizard
been so bewitched. He had come to the pavilion deter-
mined to kill both the princess and the prince, and thus
save Charlemagne and his peers from the great peril
which threatened them. But in the presence of the
peerless beauty he forgot all his learning and all his
wizard's skill and all his loyalty to the king. His book
slipped out of his hands, and fell with a rustling crash
upon the ground. The spell was broken, and the noise
awakened the princess and her maidens. They sprang
to their feet, and screamed with affright. Argalia, who
!86 The Story of Roland.
was sleeping- in another room, was aroused, and with,
drawn sword hastened to the rescue. The giants, too,
rushed in with their huge bludgeons raised in air. But,
when they saw only the trembling wizard standing in
the middle of the room, they dropped their weapons,
scorning to strike a foe so weak and pitiable. Sorry,
indeed, was the plight of the wan -faced old man, shorn
now of all his power, and forgetful of his magic lore,
He fell helpless at the feet of the charming princess.
" Spare him," said Angelica to her brother, who had
again raised his sword. "There is no honor in crush-
ing a worm so poor and harmless. But let us turn his
own enchantments against him, and send him to our
good father Galafron in Cathay, that our folk may know
what kind of knights these Christians are who would
slay us while we sleep."
Then she took up the wand which had fallen from
the wizard's hand, and with it she drew a circle upon
the ground, calling three times upon the name of Mah-
met. And she opened the book of enchantments, and
read from it And the pavilion was filled with a pale
blue smoke ; and forked lightnings flashed through the
darkness, and the winds moaned, arid the thunder rolled.
And a score of strange creatures — hobgoblins and
elves and winged afrits — came and stood around tnc
magic circle. Then, at a word from Angelica, they
took up the trembling Malagis, a-»id bore him away.
And they carried him over fields and wooded plains,
and across broad rivers and the snowy mountains and
The Princess of Cathay. 187
the billowy seas and many strange countries, until at
last they reached the land of the rising sun, and gave
him over to Galafron, king of Cathay. The king gazed
with contempt upon the wan and shrivelled features of
the fallen wizard, and he wondered if all the knights in
Christendom were like this one. Malagis in vain prayed
for mercy. Galafron could not understand a word that
he said, nor was he in a mood to show kindness to one
who had basely sought to take the life of his daughter
Angelica. And he ordered that the old man should be
imprisoned in a hollow rock beneath the sea, where he
should never more behold the light of the sun, or hear
the glad sounds of day.
Early the next morning the knights who had offered
to joust with Prince Argalia rode out together to the
Stair of Merlin. They found the Pagan mounted upon
his wonderful charger, and ready for the fray. And a
great company of lords and ladies and squires and serv-
ing men had assembled there, eager to view the combat.
And so noble was the bearing of the Prince of Cathay,
that, had he been a Christian knight, he would have had
the sympathy of all the lookers-on.
As the lots had decided, the first to enter the lists
was Astolpho of England. The trumpets sounded for
the onset, and the two combatants rushed toward each
other with the speed of the wind. As everybody had
expected, Astolpho was hurled headlong from his saddle,
and lay entangled in his heavy armor, helpless in the
dust, Argalia gallantly dismounted, and assisted him
1 88 The Story of Roland.
to rise. He kindly arranged his helmet, which had faller
from his head, and then, according to the terms which
had been agreed upon, led him to the pavilion, where he
was to remain a prisoner.
There was a general murmur among the lookers on ;
but whether it was a. murmur of regret for the nc?
unlooked-for mischance of the poet knight, or of ad
miration for the skill and courtesy of the Pagan prince.
I cannot say.
And now all was hushed in anxious expectation and
dread, as the fierce Ferrau rode out and took his place
in the lists. A very giant in size, boastful of speech,
rude and uncouth in manners, he seemed no fair match
for the light-built and courteous knight of Cathay. He
was clad in a complete suit of black armor, and above
his helmet's crest there waved a raven's plume. He
was mounted on a charger black as night, the trappings
of which were of black velvet embellished with gold
embroidery and a figure of the new moon embracing
the morning star. Not a single well-wisher had tne
fierce Moor in all that company of lookers-on.
When every thing was in readiness, the trumpets
*gain sounded the signal for the onset. The two
Pagans gave rein to their well-trained steeds, and
dashed across the turf. Their lances crashed against
the opposing shields, and every one expected that
Argalia would be unhorsed. What, then, was the aston-
ishment and delight of all, when they saw him ride
proudly onward, while the fierce Ferrau was hrj-led fron?
The Princess of Cathay. 189
_ij»ll •••• ••• ii ^•••^^•^^^^^^^••^•••i — ^^^^— ^^••^^^•^^^••^••i i i n. — . . . i i . »i . i •. .1-1,111 i r
the saddle, and rolled ingloriously upon the ground ! A
great shout went up from the multitude of lookers-on,
— a shout of joy, because they supposed that rude brute
force had for once been vanquished by skill : for no
one knew that the lance which Argalia bore was an
enchanted one ; and the rude Ferrau, although a guest
at the court of Charlemagne, was no favorite. Again
and again the air was rent with cheers for the valiant
Prince of Cathay ; while Argalia, never forgetful of the
courtesy due to a fallen foe, turned and rode back in
order to help Ferrau to his feet. But the fierce Moor,
stung to madness by his unlooked-for overthrow, and
goaded into still greater wrath by the cheers which were
heard on every side, had already risen. He drew his
sword from its scabbard, and dared the Cathayan knight
to continue the fight on foot. The guards now stepped
before him, and reminded him of the terms that had
been agreed upon with Charlemagne.
" What are Charlemagne's agreements to me ? ' he
cried angrily. " He is no king of mine : I owe him no
allegiance,"
Fiercely, madly, he attacked the knight of Cathay.
Very skilfully did Argalia defend himself ; but neither
his skill nor his enchanted shield availed much against
the furious strokes of his giant foe. The contest was a
short one. Argalia was disarmed, and thrown to the
earth. Ferrau knelt upon his breast, and, drawing his
dagger, held it to the throat of the vanquished knight.
" On one condition only shalt thou have thy life,*
i go Tke Story of Kolanct.
he growled savagely. " Promise me, on thy faith as a
Mahometan, that thy sister Angelica shall be my wife,
and that all her dowry shall be mine ! '
Had Argalia been a Christian knight, he would have
scorned to have asked for his life on any terms, much
more would he have disdained to bargain for it thus.
But he was only a Pagan ; and, although he was very
courteous and noble, he lacked some of those higher
qualities of rnind and heart which distinguished the
true Christian knight ; and so, after a little parley, he
agreed to the terms offered by Ferrau. And amid
groans, and cries of " Shame ! shame ! " from the lookers-
on, he was allowed to rise to his feet.
But Angelica liked not the thought of being made
the wife of a man so fierce and brutish as Ferrau. She
had had no voice in the agreement with the Moor, and
she made up her mind not to be bound by it. In spite
of the guards, she sprang over the barriers, and hurried
to her brother's side.
" Never will your sister be the bride of a knight so
unworthy and so base!' she cried. Then in a lo^v
whisper she said, "Meet me in the wood of Ardennes/5
She took the magic ring from her finger, and put it
between her cherry lips. Quick as thought she van-
ished from sight. Only a thin, white cloud, beautiful as
a midsummer night's dream, and not a whit more last-
ing, arose in the air, and floated away on the breeze
toward the forest of Ardennes. When the Moor saw,
'•hat. after all, he had been outwitted, and that the peer
The Princess of Cathay. rgi
•*.<***.*»*J*imm MH ••••o— ••••••••••••••••-^^•^••••^•^^^••••••^••••••••^^^••i ...••.. . i . . i .u • , , , , ¥
iess Angelica had escaped beyond his reach, his wrath
knew no bounds. With uplifted sword he rushed g
second time toward the knight of Cathay, intending to
strike him dead, But Argalia was too quick for him.
He had already mounted his swift-footed steed, and at
a word he was flying with the speed of a hurricane
across field and wood, and over hill and dale, toward
the trysting-place named by Angelica,
Everybody was astonished at the strange ending of
the jousts, and there was not a little disappointment
and confusion. The fierce Moor gave spurs to his
night-black steed, and followed in the wake of the flying
Argalia. Roland, knowing that should the prince be
overtaken he would fare but ill at the hands of his
wrathful enemy, mounted his own favorite horse Briglia-
doro, and rode swiftly after them. Then Reinold, burn-
ing with impatience to view once more the heavenly
beauty of Angelica, gave rein to Bayard, and soon out-
stripped and passed both Roland and Ferrau. A
strange, exciting race was that from the Stair of Merlin
to the wood of Ardennes.1
1 See Nate 12 at tfae ead el tMs
192 The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE XIV.
IN THE WOOD OF ARDENNES.
IN the wood of Ardennes, far from the common
haunts of men, there was a meadow, shut in on all sides
by tall trees and a thick growth of underwood. There
the ground was covered with a rich carpet of the tender-
est green grass, speckled with daisies and buttercups,
and broidered with wild roses and lilies-of-the-valley ;
and the air was sweet with the fragrance of the spring-
blossoms, and musical with the joyous notes of the
song birds. It was a place fitted for rest and pleasant
thought, where the harsh sounds of warlike strife and
busy labor could never intrude.
On one side of this meadow, half hidden in a grove
of drooping willows, was a fountain, walled in with pure
white marble and once very beautiful, but now sadly
neglected and falling into decay. Men say that the
wise wizard Merlin built this fountain in the days of
good King Arthur, hoping that Tristram and the fair
Isolde would drink of its waters ; for whosoever tasted
of them was filled at once with a strange feeling of hate
toward the one whom he had loved before, and he
In the Wood of Ardennes. 193
loathed the things which formerly had seemed most fair
to him. Not far from this spot was another fountain,
built, it was said, in the golden times, when the gods
walked and talked with men. The pool into which its
waters fell was of wonderful depth, and yet so clear
that the smallest pebble could be plainly seen at the
bottom. Men said that the wood nymphs used often to
come here to bathe, and that the naiads delighted to sit
on its banks, and admire their own beauty reflected
from below. And some wise wizard of old had given
to the waters of this spring qualities as strange as
those which distinguished the fountain of Merlin ; for
whosoever drank of them was forthwith filled with the
maddest love and admiration for the first human being
whom he chanced thereafter to meet.
To this happy meadow Angelica came, after flying
unseen from the tournament at Merlin's Stair ; and here
she waited the coming of her brother Argalia. All day
1ong she busied herself, plucking the flowers in the
meadow, or listening to the melody of the birds, or
watching the plashing of the water in the fountains ;
and she wondered why Argalia so long delayed his
coming. Alas ! her princely brother would never meet
her at trysting place again. As I have told you, he had
fled from the tilting place with the speed of the wind,
intending to meet his sister in the wood of Ardennes,
and with her to go back without delay to their old home
:n Cathay, But the mid-day sun shone hot and fierce
upon his head, and, thinking that no one would be able
The Story of Rolana.
to overtake him, he stopped in the shadow of a spread
ing oak to rest. The shade was so cool and tempting,
and the twitter of the song birds was so pleasing, and
the bees hummed so drowsily among the leaves, that he
was persuaded to dismount. He tethered his steed to
an overhanging bough : he took off his helmet, and
loosened his war coat, and, stretching himself carelessly
upon the grass, was soon fast asleep.
While Argalia thus slept in the shade of the oak,
Reinold of Montalban, mounted on the fleet-footed
Bayard, passed by. And, although he saw the knight
of Cathay slumbering soundly, he cared not to waken
him, but hastened onward, intent on catching one more
glimpse of the charming Angelica. Soon afterward
the fierce Ferrau, fuming with fury, and full of fou)
thoughts, rode up. He spied the sleeping prince under
the tree : his eyes gleamed with a wicked light, and his
face grew dark as any thunder cloud. No true knight
would have harmed a sleeping foe : he would have
awakened him, and given him time to arm himself,
But the Pagan cared naught for knightly honor. With-
out dismounting from his steed, he raised his gleaming
sword above the uncovered head of Argalia ; and, when
the weapon fell, the gallant Prince of Cathay slept the
sleep that knows not waking. Ferrau returned his
blade to its scabbard, and was about to ride on again,
when he saw the helmet of Argalia lying upon the grass
where that hapless knight had thrown it. It was a
casque of great beauty and rare workmanship, bounr:
In the Wood of Ardennes. 195
round with brass, and inlaid with gold and many a rich
gem stone. The Moor turned it over, and lifted it on
the point of his lance. The jewels gleamed in the sun-
light, and shone with a beauty which was very tempting
to him. Save the helmet of Roland, which he coveted
above every thing else in the world, Ferrau had never
seen aught that pleased him so well. He unlaced his
own black-painted casque, and tried the jewelled helmet
on his head. It was a perfect fit, and he did not remove
it. He threw the other, with the raven plume still
waving from its crest, upon the ground by the side of
the murdered prince; and then, setting spurs to his
steed, he galloped hastily onward toward the wood of
Ardennes,
Very soon afterward Roland, having followed as fast
as Brigliadoro would carry him, came up, and saw the
ill-fated Argalia stretched upon the grass, and the well-
known helmet and raven plume of Ferrau lying by his
side.
" Ah, me ! " said he. " What felony is this ? This
deed was never done in fair fight. Beastly treachery
has done it. And thou, gallant Prince of Cathay, eve»
though thou wert a Pagan, thou shalt not be unavenged"
Without pausing another moment, he gave rein to
Brigliadoro, and galloped swiftly in pursuit of the base-
hearted Moor.
In the mean while Angelica had become tired of wan-
dering about the meadow in search of flowers. She had
tired of the birds' songs, and tired of admiring
196 The Story of Roland.
• .1...I I «, ll,^y^»-^»l»»»»»— ^^^»— l.^^^^» I.I • I'll • • I I .•..!•.•!.•.•
herself in the clear mirror of the pool : so she drank a
deep draught of water from the fountain of the nymphs,
and lay down upon a bed of roses and soft moss to sleep.
While she slept, Reinold of Montalban rode into the
meadow. He was very weary and very thirsty; and he
stopped at the fountain of Merlin, and refreshed him-
self from its clear waters, little thinking what strange
quality they possessed. Then, leading Bayard by the
reins, he walked across the meadow toward the other
fountain. There he saw the Princess of Cathay fast
asleep among the roses. But in his eyes she was no
longer beautiful. No toothless crone would have seemed
so hideously ugly. He could not bear to look at her.
With the deepest disgust he turned away, and re-
mounted his good steed ; and then, as fast as the fleet-
footed Bayard could carry him, he hastened out of the
wood of Ardennes, and back to the court of the king.
Scarcely had the hero of Montalban turned his horse's
head, when Angelica awoke. She saw him riding away
from her, and she thought him the handsomest knight
she had ever seen. She called to him ; but the sound
of her voice only deepened the disgust which he felt,
and he rode all the more rapidly away. Soon afterward
she was startled by a noise on the other side of the
meadow. She heard the sound of angry words, and
then the rattle and clash of arms, as if two knights were
engaged in deadly combat. Thinking that one ot them
might be her brother, she ran to that part of the glade
whence the sounds came. There she saw Roland and
In the Wood of Ardennes. 197
Ferrau, with lances in rest, in the very act of riding
against each other. But great was her dismay and
horror when she saw above the black armor of Ferrau
the jewelled helmet of Argalia. Well did she under
stand the meaning of it all ; well did she know that her
brother would never corne to meet her in the old tryst
ing place in the wood of Ardennes. Terrified and in
great distress, she put her magic ring again between
her lips, and quick as thought she was back in her
father's palace in the sunrise land of Cathay.
Roland had overtaken Ferrau upon the very border
of the forest meadow ; and he had at once charged the
Moor with cowardly and unknightly behavior in slaying
Argalia while he slept.
" The Prince of Cathay was no Christian," said he ;
"yet he was a true knight, courteous and bold. Turn
now, and defend thyself, or take the punishment due to
a thief and a murderer I '
The two warriors rushed toward each other with the
fury of tigers and the force of two mountain whirl-
winds. The lances of both were shivered in pieces^
and so great was the shock, that both reeled in then
saddles. Roland was the first to recover himself,
Quickly he dismounted from his steed, and drew his
good sword DurandaL
" Come on, thou stranger to every knightly virtue ! *
he cried, — " come on, and thou shalt taste the edge oil
Durandal, the terror of all wrong-doers."
198 The Story of Roland.
But Ferrau had suddenly remembered that his liege
lord, Marsilius of Spain, was in need of his help. He
turned not back, nor looked around, nor seemed to hear
the taunting challenge which Roland hurled after him,
He set spurs to his night-black steed, and galloped away
to the southward. Roland mounted Brigliadoro, and
gave chase. But the Moor's black horse was the swifter
of the two, and he and his rider were soon lost to sight
Then the hero changed his course, and slowly and
thoughtfully rode back toward Paris.
Roland's Quest in the Far East. 199
ADVENTURE XV.
ROLAND'S QUEST IN THE FAR EAST.
THE spring months passed away, and summer opened,
inviting heroes forth to manly action, and pious men
to pilgrimages. Yet Roland tarried idly at the king's
court. Very irksome, though, was this life of idleness
and inaction to our hero ; and when he looked upon
the beaming blade of Durandal, or visited Brigliadoro
stamping impatiently in his stall, he longed more than
ever to ride out again on errands of knightly valor.
But Charlemagne liked not to part even for a day with
his favorite nephew. Week after week, under one pre-
tence and another, he persuaded the hero to stay with
him at court. And although there were jousts and
tournaments and hunting-parties, and much feasting
and merriment, and daily lessons in the school of good
Alcuin, yet the days seemed to lag, and every thing to
run slow, for the lack of more stirring action. By and
by the king noticed the growing unrest which rilled the
mind of Roland, and he said, —
"Dear nephew, this idleness seems little to become
one of thy restless nature. Methinks it wears upoo
thee."
2OO 7>fc£ Story of Roland.
" It does, indeed," answered Roland. " I should bs
only too glad were some war to break out, or were I
sent on some errand of danger, that I might prove my
title to knighthood."
" There is not much likelihood of war," said Charle-
magne. " But, if there is any deed of knight-errantry
thou wouldst fain undertake, thou shalt have leave to
do what thou wilt."
Roland could not conceal his pleasure.
" In the fairy gardens of Falerina, in the Far East,"
said he, "I am told that the arms of the Trojan Hector
await the coming of a hero to claim them. I have
already the sword, the flaming Durandal, and I would
fain have the complete armor. With your leave I will
ride forth at once in quest of that fairyland; and, if I
win not for myself the arms of the godlike hero, I will
thereafter rest content with what I have."
When it became known that Roland was about to
ride out as a knight-errant, and when it was told what
the object of his quest was to be, aJl the folk in the
king's court tried to dissuade him from the undertak-
mg. No one knew just where the fairyland of Falerina
was for there were no maps or guide-books in those
days ; but every one knew that there were great diffi-
culties and dangers to be met and overcome before
reaching it There were mountains and seas to be
crossed, and forests to be traversed, and monsters to be
slain, and wild beasts to be avoided or killed, and a
thousand unknown and impossible adventures to be
Roland's Quest in the Far East. 201
undertaken, before any one could hope to reach that
far-away, cloud-covered land. And, if he should be so
fortunate as to get there, there were still the weird
enchantments of the witches and the fairies to be
guarded against, requiring the knowledge of a sor
cerer, as well as the strength and skill of a warrior,
But Roland was not afraid of dangers and difficulties ;
and, the more his friends tried to dissuade him on this
account, the more determined he was to undertake the
quest. Then certain slanderers about the court, among
whom was Ganelon of Mayence, whispered that it was
the beautiful face of Angelica, rather than the match-
less arms of Hector, which was luring Roland to the
Far East ; and they said that his quest would more
likely be in the sunrise land of Cathay than in the
fairy gardens of Falerina.
To both the warnings of his friends and the evil
speaking of his foes, our hero turned a deaf ear. He
ordered Brigliadoro to be saddled ; he bade his mother
and the gentle Alda and his brother knights good-by ;
and then, clad in complete armor, with Durandal at
his side, he rode away. For many days he travelled
straight toward the rising sun, veering now and then
to the southward. And he left behind him the broad
lands of France, and the fair plains of Lombardy, and
the heaven-towering Alps, and the great sea. And in
every village or country where he came he was welcomed
and kindly entertained as a Christian knight without
fear and wittout reproach. And, when he inquired the
2O2 Ibe &tory of Kotanct.
way to the Fairyland of Falerina, men pointed toward
the east, and shook their heads, and warned him to give
up the quest ere it was too late. But he, in no wise
disheartened, pressed onward, ever the more intent as
the dangers and difficulties seemed greater and nearer
One day he came to a bridge which spanned a silent
slow-flowing river, and whose farther end was hidden in
a dark mist. On the bridge a pretty maiden stood to
take toll of all that passed that way. Roland asked her
the way to Fairyland.
" It is not far from here," said she ; " but the way is
beset with many perils. If you will drink this cup of
water which I have dipped from the river beneath us,
your eyesight will become clearer, and you will be able
to see through the mists which hang over Fairyland and
hide it from mortal sight."
But the maiden spoke of the Fairyland of Forgetful-
ness, and not of the gardens of Falerina. Roland
thoughtlessly took the cup which she offered him, and
drank the water which it held. In a moment he forgot all
his past life, all his ambitions and his hopes : he forgot
even his friends and himself and the quest upon which
he was riding. He remembered nothing whatever. He
only knew that beside him was a beautiful maiden, and
that beyjnd the bridge whereon he stood was a fail
country full of pleasant sights and sounds, of singing
birds, and softly murmuring waterfalls, and gay flowers,
and luscious fruits. Farther away he saw a tall castle,
with towers and turrets pointing to the sky, and broad
Roland's Quest in the Far East. 203
battlements, and a high wall surrounded by a deep, wide
moat And, having drunk of the waters of Forgetful-
ness, he no longer had any will of his own. He suffered
the maiden to take him by the hand and to lead him
into the halls of the castle. And there, with many
other knights who had been entrapped in the same way,
he passed days and weeks of pleasurable forgetfuiness,
content with that which each moment brought him, and
having no remembrance of the past, and no thought noi
care for the future.
No one knows how long Roland would have staid z
prisoner in the castle of Forgetfulness, had it not beer
for Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. I will tell yot
how it happened that she came to set him free.
When Angelica returned to her own home, after the
death of her brother Argalia, she found that a fierce
Tartar chief named Agrican had long been waging wai
with her father, King Galafron, and had forced him to
shut himself up in the walled town of Albracca. Week
after week the Tartars besieged Albracca, striving in
every way to pass the well-defended walls. But Gala
fron and his folk held out bravely ; and, while they kept
thei- foes a safe distance from their gates, they sent
fleet messengers to Sacripant, king of Circassia, pray
ing him to lend them some aid. Sacripant, who had
long courted the favor of the Princess Angelica, came
with an army of ten thousand men, and gave battle to
Agrican outside Ox the city walls. Fierce was the £ght,
and great was the loss of life on either side. At last
2O4 The Story of Roland.
the Circassians cut their way through the ranks of the
beleaguering Tartars, and reached the gates, which were
opened to receive them. But so closely pressed were
they, chat, ere the heavy barriers could be closed again,
a great part of the Tartar horde, with chief Agrican at
their head, had crowded through into the city. Theft
was there terror and great distress in Albracca, and
fierce fighting in every street. Of the ten thousand
gallant Circassians whom Sacripant had led to the
affray, not half a thousand remained alive. And, in the
end, King Galafron, with the remnant of those who had
escaped the storm-like fury of the Tartars, was obliged
to retire into the citadel, a strong-built castle standing
high on a rock in the middle of the town. But the
castle was not very well supplied with arms, nor was it
victualled for a long siege ; and the hearts of all sank
within them as they thought of the day when starvation
would oblige them to open the gates to their fierce, un-
feeling foes. It was then that Angelica bethought her
of her magic ring.
" Do not yet give up all hope," she said. " Hold the
citadel only seven days longer, and I will bring you
help. In the castle of Forgetfulness, which lies on the
borders of Fairyland, there are many brave knights
imprisoned, — the noblest and the most daring in all
the world. I will hie me thither, and awaken them,
and call them to our aid."
Then she put the magic ring between her lips, and
Bew unseen over the heads of the Tartar horde, and
Roland's Quest in the Far East. 205
over the pleasant valleys and the wooded hills of Cathay,
and stopped not until she came to the land of the fairies
and the bridge which spans the River of Forgetfulness,
The maiden who stood there to take the toll offered her
the cup of water ; but she dashed it to the ground, and
went boldly onward to the castle. She passed through
the wide-open gates unchallenged ; for, in the dwelling
where Forgetfulness reigns, there is no need of warder
or of watchman. She entered the great banquet hallf
where the guests and prisoners were at meat. There
at the table sat Roland, and Reinold of Montalban, and
many another fearless knight, eating and drinking and
making merry, and not once thinking of their knightly
vows, or caring to know each other. She stood in the
doorway, her book of enchantments in one hand, and a
trumpet in the other. She sang a song sweeter than
a siren's voice, and so loud and clear that it was echoed
in every nook and chamber of the sleepy old castle.
The knights, intent only on the pleasure of the passing
moment, scarcely raised their eyes to look at her. They
kept on feasting and laughing, and merrily joking, as
men are wont to do who never think of the morrow.
Then she raised the bugle-trumpet to her lips, and blew
a shrill, deep battle call At the first blast the knights
sprang to their feet, and gazed about in mingled aston-
ishment and shame. At the second, all the memories
of the past, all their hopes, all their ambition, came into
their minds again. With one accord they rushed in
hot haste from the banquet table ; they hastened to the
The Story of Roland.
armory and to the stables. Never before had there
been in that place such a buckling-on of armor, such a
mounting of war steeds, such looks and words of brave
determination and hope. Old Oblivion, the lord of the
castle, who was alike deaf to every call of duty, and
blind to every noble impulse, shut himself up in the
lowest depths of his dungeon tower, fearful lest the
stirring sounds of Angelica's bugle might arouse in
him some slumbering thoughts of the great world out-
side.
It was not long until the awakened knights were fully
equipped with their arms and armor, and mounted on
their war steeds, ready to follow Angelica wherever she
might lead, or to undertake any adventure she might
direct. And they rode back over the now dry River of
Forgetfulness, and out of the world of fairyland and
enchantments, into the nobler world of reality, of action,
and of worthy effort.
On the third day they reached the country of Cathay,
and saw the ruin and the ravages that the fierce Tartars
had made. The harvests had been overrun, the vine-
yards had been trampled down, the villages had been
burned, and, where there had been plenty and happi
ness, now naught was seen but smoking heaps and a
desolate desert-waste. The country folk of Cathay had
hidden themselves from their pitiless foes in the moun-
tain fastnesses and in the thick woods. But, when they
heard that many of the most noted warriors of the Far
West were riding to the succor of their king at Albrac
Roland's Quest in the Far East. 207
ca, they came out of their hiding places, and ha^.ed
them as the saviors of their country. And every day,
as Roland and his comrades drew nearer to the be-
leaguered city, great numbers of Cathayan warriors
who had escaped from the Tartars, and who had been
scattered abroad through the land, came and joined
their standard. And when., at last, the tall towers of
Albracca rose before them, Roland found himself at
the head of an army of forty thousand fighting men
Great was the astonishment and dismay of the Tartars
when this host burst unexpectedly upon them. Fearfu)
indeed was the din of battle that ensued. The belea-
guered Galafron, at the head of a handful of troops,
sallied out from the citadel, and joined the army of res-
cuers. And, always in the thickest of that fearful fight,
there Roland was seen, the flash of his angry eye and
the glitter of the wondrous sword Durandal carrying
terror into the ranks of the panic-stricken Tartars.
In vain did Chief Agrican strive to rally his men.
All was fear and confusion ; and most of his followers
had at the first onset taken to shameful flight, followed
by the victorious Cathayans, He saw, that so long as
his foes were cheered on by Roland, who was a verita
ble host within himself, there was little hope for the
Tartars, and he formed a cunning plan to draw him
away from the field. He placed his lance in rest, and
rode forward, as if he would make an attack upon
Roland Then suddenly, as though in fright, he fled.
Roland followed in swift pursuit. The Tartar chief, as
so8 The Story of Roland.
if he thought his life in deadly peril, galloped away as
fast as his steed would carry him, and paused not until
he reached an open glade in a forest, far beyond the
sound of the battle's strife. Here he dismounted, te
drink of the water which gurgled up clear and pure in
a marble fountain which King Galafron had built and
made sacred to the nymphs of the wood. Scarcely
had he wet his lips, when Roland rode up close behind
him.
" Ah, sir chief I ' cried he, " how is it that the brave
flee thus from peril ? '
The Tartar leaped quickly into his saddle, and faced
his enemy.
" Sir knight, whoever you may be," said he, " I am
fain to look upon you as the bravest warrior I have ever
met. I have seen your daring ; and, foe though you be,
I cannot help admiring you. For your own sake I
would rather not touch you, for it would grieve me
much to see the death of so brave a man. Ride, there-
fore, back to your fellows, and goad me not to your
destruction."
Roland was pleased with this gallant speech of the
Pagan, and he answered mildly, "Pity it is that a
warrior so courteous as thou, and withal so brave,
should be an unbeliever. Let me urge thee to turn
Christian, and to go back in quietness to thv own land.
By doing so, thou mayst save both thy body and thy
soul."
The Tartar's cheek grew white with rage. " Even
Roland 's Quest in the Far East. 209
though thou wert Roland of France, or any other knight
as valiant, thou shouldst rue those taunting words \
Draw now thy sword, and save thyself if thou canst ! '
Fiercely, then, did the two knights join in fight, and
the woods around them rang with the clashing of their
good blades. But so well were they matched, and so
skilfully was every thrust parried, that neither warrior
was able to touch the other, or to gain aught of advan-
tage over him. By and by the sun went down, and
the stars came out, and the moon arose ; and still the
fight seemed no whit nearer its end. The Tartar was
the first to ask a truce until morning. They tied their
horses to the overhanging branches of an elm, and lay
down upon the grass to rest, — Roland near the foun-
tain, and Agrican by the trunk of a pine. The sky
was clear and the stars shone bright, and the two
knights talked with each other as two friends would
talk. Roland pointed to the stars above them, and in
earnest tones spoke of the goodness and wisdom and
power of Him who had made them. The Tartar was
not used to speeches of this kind, nor did he relish the
way in which Roland sought to tell him of matters
belonging to the Christian faith. At last, growing
weary, and filled with disgust, he said, —
" You may be a very brave knight, but you are cer-
tainly very ill bred to make me listen to things which
are sc distasteful to me. If you will not let me sleep,
you might at least talk of fair ladies, and daring deeds,
and feats of arms, — things much better fitted for the
2io The Story of Roland.
understanding of a knight. But tell me, are you not
that Roland of France whose name and deeds are ic
every one's mouth ? '
" I am Roland of France," was the answer.
" And why are you here, so far from home, fighting
for one who is no more a Christian than I ? ' asked
Agrican.
" I am fighting for the rights of the Princess Angeli-
ca," answered Roland, " Every Christian knight has
a liege lady whom he is bound at all times to defend."
The Tartar arose, leaped upon his horse, and drew his
sword. Roland, much against his will, again mounted
Brigliadoro, and made ready to defend himself. Old
stories tell us, that the two warriors fought most furi-
ously until the sun arose, and that Roland's shield was
cut in twain, and his armor battered and scarred, and
every joint in his body shaken and bruised, so terri
ble was the onset of the enraged Agrican. And they
say that at last, in sheer desperation, and as his only
hope, Roland gave his foe a stroke with the sword
Durandal, that laid him low at his feet. Quickly then
he dismounted from Brigliadoro. Tears of true, heart-
felt sorrow, streamed from his eyes as he raised the
dying chief tenderly in his arms, and laid him on the
marble rim of the fountain.
" Pagan and foe, though thou wert," murmured Ro
land, " yet thou wert a man, and a most worthy knight ! '
And there on the rim of the fountain he left him,
clad in his full suit of armor, with his sword in hiss
hand, and his kingly crown on his head.
THE COMBAT AT MIDNIGHT.
How Reinold fared to Cathay. 2 1 \
ADVENTURE XVL
HO'V REINOLD FARED TO CATHAY.
You *re curious to know how it happened that Rei«
nold of Montalban had been entrapped in the castle of
Forgetfalness to be liberated just in time to carry aid
to the distressed Albraccans ? I will tell you.
When the Princess Angelica returned to her father's
dwelling, after that fateful day in the wood of Ardennes,
she could not forget the noble form and bearing of the
hero of Montalban, as he had appeared to her when she
last saw him by the fountain of Merlin. So she ordered
that Malagis the wizard should be freed from his dun-
geon beneath the sea, and brought into her presence.
The little old man, very glad to see the light of day
once more, bowed reverently to the princess, and hum
bly waited for her to speak.
" K no west thou the French knight who is called
Remold of Montalban ? " asked she.
" I do, most worthy lady," was the wizard's answer.
" He is my cousin and my dearest friend."
"Listen, then," said the princess. "If thou wilt
promise to bring this noble knight, by fair means o?
212 The Story of Roland.
by foul, to Cathay, thou shalt have thy freedom,
book, and thy wizard's ring."
The old man bowed low, and promised. He would
have hazarded his soul for those things. He took his
book and his ring, and without a day's delay hastened
to return to France.
" Where hast thou been, wise cousin ? ' asked Rei-
nold, as the dwarf bowed himself into his chamber.
" Only across the sea," was the answer.
"And what didst thou find across the sea?'
" A very great treasure, but it is guarded by a
dragon so fierce and wakeful that I dared not go near
it. Men say that this treasure has lain there for ages,
waiting the coming of a hero brave enough to face the
dragon, and strong enough to slay him. Methought that
my cousin, Reinold of Montalban, might be that hero."
Very cunning were the wizard's words, and it was
not hard for him to persuade Reinold to go in quest of
the treasure. A ship with sails all set, impatient for
the wind, awaited the knight as he rode down to the
seashore. He stepped aboard, leading the horse Bay-
ard behind him. A light breeze sprang up : the sails
filled, and the ship sped gayly on its way across the sea.
There was no one on board save Reinold and his steea ;
but the wizard had assured him that the ship needed
neither pilot nor oarsman, and that it would sail straight
to the shore where the treasure lay under the watch-
ful eyes of the dragon. Two days the little vessel sped
over the waves like a thing of life ; nor did Reinold
How Reinold fared to Cathay. 213
once doubt that the end of the voyage would be as the
wizard had said. On the third day he came to a long,
low shore and a goodly island, which seemed to be one
large garden adorned and beautified with -every thing
that is pleasant to the sight. Close by *he shore was a
wondrous castle, the fairest that Reinold had ever seen,
It was built of marble so white and clear that the walls
seemed like great mirrors in which were painted the
garden, the sea, and the sky. As the boat touched
the shore, three ladies, handsome as fairies, came out
of the castle, and greeted the knight.
" Welcome, brave hero ! ' said they. " Welcome to
Joyous Castle ! Welcome in the name of our queen,
Angelica of Cathay ! '
Reinold heard the name of the fair princess with
loathing. He remembered her only as she had seemed
to him after he had drunk from the mystic waters of
Merlin's fountain. He thought of an old witch, hag-
gard and toothless and crippled, blear-eyed and gray,
mumbling her weird spells, and muttering curses.
Such to him was Angelica of Cathay. How he hated
and loathed her ! He turned him about in the ship,
and would not look at the fairy palace and the gardens,
which were said to be hers. The breeze again filled the
sails, and the little bark left the shore, and the marble
towers of Joyous Castle were soon out of sight. And a
great storm arose on the sea, and the waves ran moun-
tain high, and the ship was at the mercy of the winds,
A, dark night came on, and Reinold was in fearful p^ril
214 The Story of Roland.
but he stood calmly at the helm, and cared not at all
for the danger. In the morning the vessel ran upon
a wild, rock-bound shore, and was dashed in pieces by
the waves; but the hero and his horse escaped wfsb
great difficulty by swimming to the land.
The country in which Remold now found himseli
was covered with a dark forest, where the owls hooted
dismally, and the wolves howled, and the goblins of the
wood held high carnival. As he made his way through
the dense underbrush, and among the dead and decay-
ing trees, he espied a low-built, gloomy castle standing
in the middle of a marsh. He rode up to the gate, and
called out loudly to the warder to open and let him in.
For a time there was no answer ; and, indeed, no sign
or sound of life did he hear. Then, suddenly, there
was a rattling of chains and a ringing of iron bars ;
and the gate flew open, and four giants rushed out
upon the knight Before he could draw his sword, or
in the least defend himself, he was dragged from his
horse, and bound with iron chains, and carried into the
courtyard.
" Why this rudeness to a stranger and a knight ? " he
aske*!, as soon as he was given time to speak.
The giants answered him not a word, but left him
lying helpless and alone on the stone floor. After a
while, an old woman came in to jeer and laugh at his
mishaps.
"A fine morsel thou wilt be for the dragon," said she,
M It is not often that he has a real Christian knight fa?
How Reinold fared to Cathay. 215
his dinner, and thou wilt indeed make him gentle and
gladsome,"
Reinold asked the woman what she meant, and was
told that on the morrow he was to be given to a terrible
dragon who had overrun and ravaged all that country^
and who could be appeased only by human blood.
" I fear him not," said the knight, " if they will but
unbind me, and give me my good Flamberge."
All night long Reinold lay bound in the cold and deso-
late courtyard, while Bayard galloped hither and thither
in the forest, seeking vainly for his master. Early
in the morning the four giants came again ; and, after
unbinding Reinold, they threw him, with his arms and
armor, into a deep-walled pit where the dragon was wont
to come for his daily meals. The knight, glad to find
that his limbs were free, and that his good sword Flam-
berge was in his hand, waited fearlessly for the coming
of the monster. Not long, however, had he to wait
The horrid beast, his teeth gnashing with rage, and his
nostrils flaming with poisonous fumes, rushed into the
area, expecting to find, as usual, an easy prey. But
Remold attacked him bravely with his good sword, and
siade him pause in his hasty onset. Fierce and terrible
was the fight that followed. The sharp claws oi the
beast tore off the knight's armor piece by piece. His
head was laid bare ; his hauberk and breastplate were
broken ; the strokes of his sword fell harmless on the
iron scales which protected the creature's sides. Hard
would it have gone with the knight, had not good for
2i6 The Story of Roland.
tune favored him. Six feet above his head a beam pro-
jected into the pit. He felt his strength failing him ;
the great jaws of the beast were about to close upon
him. He called up all his energy, and with one mighty
effort leaped upon the beam. He was safe. The
dragon raged and fumed and threatened, but could not
reach him. Yet how, after all, would the good knight
escape ? The walls rose, high arid smooth, still many
feet above him. There was no way to get out of the
pit, save by passing the dread monster below.
While the knight sat half-despairing on the friendly
beam, he heard a whirring of wings above him ; and a
fairy, which he at first mistook tor a bird, alighted by
his side.
"Most worthy knight," said she, "fortune comes
always to the help of the brave. Now here are a ball
of wax and a strong net, which you may use as your
good sense may direct. But you must never forget that
this aid has been sent you by the Princess Angelica of
Cathay."
With these words the fairy flew away, and was seen
no more. But Reinold wondered whether she were not
really the princess herself in disguise. It was easy for
him to understand what to do with the presents she had
brought. He threw the cake of wax to the raging
dragon below. Eagerly the beast seized it between his
jaws, and, lo ! as Reinold had foreseen, his teeth were
glued fast together. Then, as the creature madly
sought to remove the wax with his claws, it was eas$
IN THE DRAGON'S DEN.
How Reinold fared to Cathay. 217
for the knight to cast the net over him, and draw it
tightly about his limbs and body. Helpless now, the
great beast rolled upon the ground, an easy victim to
Reinold's trenchant blade.
It was no hard matter for Reinold to find his way cut
of the pit, and into the wood again. There the good
horse Bayard waited for him, and greeted his coming
with a shrill neigh of pleasure, He looked around for
the gloomy castle where he had spent so many misera-
ble hours, but it was nowhere to be seen. He rubbed
his eyes, and fancied, that, after all, he might have been
only dreaming ; for his armor was whole as ever, and
his good blade Flamberge was clear and bright, and no
whit tarnished with foul dragon's blood. He mounted
his steed, and rode slowly and thoughtfully out of the
forest. But, just beyond, he came to the River of For-
getfulness and the bridge which spans it ; and there,
like Roland, he drank of the cup which the maiden
offered him, and was led helplessly away to the care-
forgetting castle of Old Oblivioa.
2i8 The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE XVII.
IN THE GARDENS OF FALERINA.
HAVING defeated the Tartars before Albracca, and
driven them, as they supposed, forever from Cathay,
the French knights began to bethink them again of
their own country, and of the duties which they owed
to their liege lord, King Charlemagne. Reinold, burn-
ing with anger and shame because of the deception
which had brought him hither, turned away at once,
and, deaf to every entreaty of the grateful Cathay ans,
hastened his journey back to France. But Roland
was not yet willing to give up the adventure which
he had undertaken ; and he resolved to make one fur-
ther trial to find the gardens of Falerina, and to win
the arms of the godlike Hector of Troy. So he bade
farewell to Angelica and to her father, King Gaiafronj
and set out on his quest for the land of the fairies ;
and the grateful people of Albracca showered blessings
upon his head as he passed out of their gates. And
many of the noblest lords and ladies of the realm rode
with him to the utmost bounds of their kingdom, where
they parted from him with many heartfelt thanks and
many a tearful godspeed.
In the Gardens of Fatenna. 219
" He is a Christian," said they as they rode back to
their homes, " and yet he is the noblest of men/'
And Roland rode alone through many strange lands
inhabited by strange Pagan people, who looked upon
him with wonderment as he passed. And so noble was
his countenance, so proud was his form, and so brilliant
was the armor in which he was clad, that the ignorant
folk often mistook him for a god ; but he pitied their
lack of knowledge and their error, and told them what
little he knew of Christ and of the holy saints. And
when he asked them to show him the way to Fairyland,
they could only shake their heads, and point toward
the setting sun.
One day, after having crossed a barren hill country,
where not any thing was to be seen save huge bowlders
and lava-beds and yawning chasms, he came into a
wood so dark and dank and lonesome, that he felt that
this indeed must be the borderland between the world
of reality and the world of the fairies. Owls hooted
in the dead treetops ; gray wolves howled in the
thickets ; bats and vampires flew through the air ; hid-
eous creatures skulked among the trees. Had such a
thing as fear known lodgement in Roland's breast, he
would have turned back, and given up forever his quest
for Fairyland. But by and by the wood became less
dense, the trees and grass grew as in a park, and the
sun, which had been hidden behind a cloud, now shone
brightly through the leaves. Birds flitted and sang
among the branches ; and the lonesomeness and borr-om
of the deeper forest gave place to light and hope
22O The Story of Roland.
As Roland rode leisurely along through this wood,
he was suddenly aroused by hearing cries, as of some
one in distress. Looking around, he saw that the}1
were uttered by a fair lady, bound hand and foot to a
tree, and guarded by an armed knight.
"Flow, now!" cried Roland, riding nearer. "What
is the meaning of this ? How dare you, who seem to be
a knight, thus maltreat the helpless and the beautiful ? "
The knight explained that the lady whom he held as
his prisoner was dishonest, untruthful, and treacherous
to her best friends, and that she was only being pun-
ished for her misdemeanors as she deserved.
" Her very name is Deceit," he said ; " and, if she
were once liberated, there would be no end to the mis-
chief she would cause."
But the lady, tears streaming from her eyes, denied
these charges, and begged Roland to set her free. And
oar hero, whose ears were always open to the pleadings
of those in distress, without further parley placed his
lance in rest, and challenged the knight to a trial of
arms.
"If after what I have told you," said the knight,
"you wish to befriend such a creature as she, I have
not a word further to say." And, with a motion of dis-
gust, he turned, and rode quickly away.
Roland very gallantly released the lady from the
cords which bound her ; and, as it was still a long way
out. of the wood, he helped her to a seat behind hirn^
and together the two rode onward toward the west
In the Gardens of Falerina. 221
The lady told him that they were now entering the
enchanted regions of Fairyland, and that he must be
very cautious in whatever he undertook to do. As she
was talking they reached the edge of the wood, where
they met another young lady, a beautiful damsel, riding
on a white palfrey gayly attired in trappings of crimson
velvet, with silver bells hanging from the reins.
"Ah, sir knight!" said she, courtesying very hum-
bly, "it is indeed lucky that I met you on this spot.
Had you gone ten yards farther, you would have been
in plain sight of the gardens of Falerina, and you would
have been slain by the watchful dragon who sits before
the gate. If you would succeed in your venture, listen
to me. Stay where you are until morning : stir not a
foot farther, or you will be lost. Just at sunrise every
day, the gates are thrown wide open for a time ; and
then, and only then, if you are wise, you can enter the
fairy gardens. But beware of the dragon ! "
Then she gave him a little book in which was a map
of the enchanted garden and a picture of Falerina's
palace, and directions how to reach it, and how to enter
it And she told Roland that the fairy queen had been
A long time shut up in one of the chambers of her
palace, trying to forge a magic sword that should be
proof against all kinds of witchery, and sharp enough
to slay even those whose lives were protected by the
unseen powers.
" For," said the damsel, " she has read in the book of
Fate that a hero will come out of the West, and that ho
222 The Story of Roland.
will trample down her fair garden, and take from her
all her witch power."
" And is the sword yet finished ? " asked Roland.
" I think it is," answered the damsel. " And, if you
ean once seize upon it, you will be safe from all the
magic snares that are set for you. Yet many men have
tried to enter these wonderful gardens, and every one
has failed."
While they were yet talking, the sun had gone down ;
and Roland, thinking it better to take the advice of the
damsel, and not attempt to go farther that night, dis-
mounted from Brigliadoro, and lay down under the
friendly shelter of a cedar tree to rest. He had no
sooner fallen asleep than the woman whom he had
rescued in the forest, and who was really as false-
hearted and base as the strange knight had represented
her to be, mounted his war steed, and rode away, carry-
ing the sword Durandal with her.
When Roland awoke in the morning, and saw how he
had been deceived and robbed, he was both angered
and disheartened. He felt that the dangerous adven-
ture which he had undertaken might, after all, prove to
be a failure. Yet his knightly vows would not allow
him to give up a quest which he had once begun, and
he resolved to go forward as he had at first intended.
The sky began to redden in the east : the sun would
soon rise, and the gates of the garden would be thrown
open. If he would enter those enchanted grounds, if
he would prove himself worthy to wear the armor oJ
In the Gardens of Falerina. 223
the godlike Hector, he must be ready to act without
delay. He tore off the stout branch of an elm to serve
him instead of a sword, and went boldly onward in the
way which the damsel on the palfrey had pointed out,
A very few steps brought him to the top of the hill
whence he could look down into the valley beyond.
There a wonderful sight met his view. Not half a
league away was the entrance to the long-sough t-foi
gardens, closed now by strong iron gates hanging
between columns of brass. In front of the gates the
sleepless dragon paced to and fro, while high above them
soared a mountain eagle. The wall was built of white
marble, and was very high ; but Roland, from his place
on the hill, could see the trees and the fountains and
the silvery lake beyond, and farther away he could
discern the glass towers and turrets of Falerina's castle,
shining like silver in the early morning light.
Roland held the green elm branch before him so as
to hide himself from the ever-watchful eyes of the
dragon, and went slowly forward toward the gates.
The sun, now beginning to rise, gilded the treetops and
the far-off mountain crags and the tall turrets of the
fairy castle, with a golden light. The watchman on the
tower blew a long, silvery call upon his bugle-horn, which
was echoed and re-echoed from hill to valley, and from
river to lake, until it was heard all over that Fairyland.
" Awake, awake !' he cried "The daystar comes;
the king of life blesses us again. Open wide the gates
and let floods of light pour in upon us ! "
224 The Story of Roland.
The great iron gates swung round on their hinges : a
passage-way was opened, wide enough for a score of
knights to ride through abreast ; and from the fairy
gardens within there came the sound of music sweeter
than any Roland had ever before heard. But he had
no time to listen to these enchanting sounds ; for he
knew that the gates would soon close, and that the
present golden opportunity would never return. The
dragon stood now directly in the gateway, its eyes flash
ing fire, its nostrils smoking with sulphur fumes, its
hooked claws digging into the soft earth, its clammy
wings beating the air. To a man of less heroic mettle
than Roland the sight of the beast would have caused
unspeakable terror. But Roland faltered not. He
strode straight onward, holding his shield before his
face, that he might not breathe the poisonous breath of
the monster. In his right hand he held the gnarly elm
branch, which he had hastily stripped of its green
leaves. Very near he drew to the hideous beast; he
felt its hot breath; its fangs were almost upon him.
He leaped forward. With a quick movement he thrust
the branching boughs between the gaping jaws of the
creature with such force that they stuck fast. The
dragon stopped. Its mouth was propped wide open by
the ugly elm branch. In vain it clutched at it with its
crooked claws, and sought to free itself. Roland paused
not a moment. He leaped clear over the back of the
monster. Swiftly he ran toward the gates. He reached
them, and passed through, just as they creaked on theii
In the Gardens of Falerina. 225
hinges and closed with a mighty crash behind him.
His foe, the dragon, had gotten free from the elm
branch, but too late to do him any harm ; for the mas-
sive g«ites were between them.
Roland looked around him. On his right was a fail
fountain, pouring water by a hundred silver jets into &
little lake whose surface was dotted with water-lilies
among which swam dozens of noble white swans. Out
of the lake a little river flowed, meandering through
meadows bright with roses and violets, and flowers oi
every name and hue. In the middle of the stream
stood a marble image, — an image of a river nymph,
such as in the golden days haunted fountain and water-
fall and every flowing stream. Above the brows of the
image an inscription was written in Greek : " SEEK-
EST THOU THE ENCHANTED PALACE ? FOLLOW THE
RIVER." The knight, never doubting, did as the in
scription directed. The stream flowed through scenes
more delightful than any he had ever dreamed of. So
sv/eet was the music with which the air was filled, so
pleasant were the perfumes, so beautiful were the birds,
the flowers, the waterfalls, the grottos, and the garden
walks, that, if Roland had not borne well in mind ins
knightly vows, he would have been sorely tempted tc
live amid these joys forever.
After a long walk, which, however, seemed to him
only too short, he reached the fairy palace of Falerina.
It was a gorgeous and most beautiful structure, built
within and without of glass and precious stones, arid
226 The Story of Roland.
adorned with every thing that is pleasing to the senses
The doors were wide open, and bevies of fairies were
passing in and out, singing gayly, and making the palace
resound with the music of their sweet voices. They
cast inquiring glances at the strange knight as they
passed ; but, as they had never known an enemy in
Fairyland, they thought him only some stranger whom
the queen had invited to her court. Seeing that every
one moved freely from one chamber to another in that
vast palace, without hinderance and without ceremony,
Roland walked boldly in. For some time he strolled
carelessly about, listening to the music, and watching
the nimble dancers in the great halls, or admiring the
many wonderful things with which the palace was
stored. At last, in a lower chamber which opened into
the garden, he found Falerina, the fairy queen. She
was sitting alone, as was her wont in the earlier hours
of the day, while her attendants amused themselves in
the garden. Before her, leaning against the wall, was
the magic sword, the blade which had cost her so
many weeks of anxious labor. She had but lately fin
ished it and tested it, and now she was quietly admir
ing her own good looks as they were reflected from its
bright silvery sides. And very beautiful indeed was
she, — so beautifu^ that Roland paused in reverent ad-
miration. She was dressed in rich white robes from
ever)' fold of which rare jewels gleamed ; and upon her
head was a golden crown, flashing with diamonds. She
seemed something more divine than a mere fairy, and
In the Gardens of Falerina.
j
akin to the Peris of whom Roland had heard the Sara-
cens speak.
The hero paused but a moment. Before the fairy
could hinder, or call for help, he seized the magk
sword, and raised it threateningly above her head.
" Yield, and I will spare thee ! ' he cried.
The queen, never having known such thing as fear,
sat still, and said not a word.
"Show me the Trojan Hector's arms," said he, "and
thou shalt live."
" Surely," then answered the queen, " thou art a
brave warrior thus to threaten me in my own dwelling,
Methinks thou art Knight Roland from the West."
" Roland is my name," said he. " And I have come
in quest of Hector's arms. Tell me where I shall find
them."
" I shall tell thee nothing," answered the fairy, fold-
ing her arms.
When Roland found that neither threats nor prayer*
would persuade her to tell him the secret, he carried
her gently into the garden, and, with cords which Mala
gis the wizard had given him, he bound her, hand and
foot, to a beech tree, so that no fairy could ever unbind
her. Then he went out of the palace to follow his
quest as best he might, well knowing now that nc
witchery of the fairy queen could harm him. As he
was again following the course of the winding river
through meadows and groves and many a scene of de-
light, he bethought him of the book which the damnd
228 The Story of Roland.
on the white palfrey had given him. He opened it, and
looked at the map. There was nothing said about the
place where Hector's arms were hidden. But he saw
that on the south there was a gats which was always
open. Between the gate and the palace was a large
lake ; and in the lake, the book said, there was a siren,
whose song charmed all passers-by, and had caused the
death of many a brave knight.
As he was now not very far from the lake, Roland
resolved that he would rid himself of another danger
by seeking the siren, and silencing her voice. As he
strolled across the meadows, he gathered great num-
bers of daisies and violets, blue-bells and buttercups,
and filled his helmet and his ears with them. Then
he stopped, and listened if he could hear the birds sing.
He could see their mouths open, their throats swell,
and their plumage ruffle ; but he could not hear the
slightest sound. He felt now that he was proof against
the enchanting song of the siren, for music never
lured a deaf man to his destruction. He went boldly
forward to the lake, and wandered leisurely along the
shore, admiring its mirror-like surface and the clear-
ness and great depth of the water. Suddenly, near the
centre of the pool a ripple appeared ; and then a strange
creature, somewhat like a bird, and somewhat like a
fish, arose above the surface, and began to sing. The
siren was not at all beautiful ; but her song was so
sweet, that all the birds were silenced, and came flying
down in great flocks by the shore to listen. The cattle
In the Gardens of Falerina. 229
gad «MU*t ••Mil I r I .1 I • MI ii >-.— ..- . —.-—.I ..i, . .111 ........ ,• - - ' • ••'- • • — • " *.*
and the wood-beasts hastened in troops and crowds to
the waterside, where they stood fixed and entranced by
the soft, melodious strains. The leaves of the trees
quivered in sympathy with the sounds, and even the
rocks seemed to hearken and to smile. Roland alone
was unmoved, because he heard nothing. Yet as the
siren still sat in the water, and kept on singing, he
made a pretence of yielding to the charms of her be
witching song. He fell down among the flowers by
the lakeside, and closed his eyes as if in a trance. The
siren ended her song. The birds and the beasts went
slowly back to their places, and all was quiet about the
lake, Roland lay very still. The siren swam close to
the shore, thinking to seize him, as she had seized
many another brave knight, and drag him down into
her dismal den at the bottom of the lake ; but Roland
arose suddenly, and grasped her long neck. Fearful
were the struggles of the creature, and loud were the
songs that she sung ; for she hoped even yet to be-
witch the knight with the strange power of music. But
the hero raised the magic sword of Falerina above her,
rod with one stroke severed her hideous head.
Freed now from this last source of danger, Roland
started out again in search of the arms of Hector. He
followed every garden walk to its end ; he sought in
every grove and every grotto : yet he could nowhere
find the wished-for prize. He asked the fairies whom
he sometimes met ; but they seemed downhearted and
sad, and shook their heads, saying that they had never
230 The Story of Roland.
heard of Hector, nor of his arms. But an old man, who
had lived in Fairyland for a great many years, told him
that the object of his search had long ago been carried
into another garden, and that he could not hope to find
it without undergoing many hardships and meeting
many dangers of which he now knew nothing.
Toward evening Roland found his way back again
to the enchanted palace of the queen, but all was
changed. The fairies whom he had seen there in the
earlier part of the day had fled, leaving the splendid
mansion silent and desolate. The music had ceased ;
shadows had taken the place of sunshine ; the flowers
had closed their petals ; the birds had flown away. As
the knight walked across the deserted courtyard, the
only sound that he heard was the echo of his own foot-
steps on the hard pavement. The silence was more
dreadful to him than any danger that had ever threat-
ened him. The hapless fairy queen was still bound
fast to the beech tree where he had left, her but she
was no longer happy and defiant. Bitterly she wept,
and earnestly did she beg him to set her free. He
asked her again where the arms of the Trojan laero
were hidden.
" By my troth," said she, " I know not They were
long ago given into the keeping of my sister, Morgan
the Fay. If you would win them, you must make your
way to her castle, and prove by your prowess that you
are worthy of the prize. Then, when Fortune is ready
to award her gifts, be sure that you let not the golden
opportunity slip by unimoroved."
In the Gardens of Falerina. 231
The hero loosed the fairy queen from the magic
cords which bound her. He called around her the
frightened attendants, and assured them that he had
no wish to harm either them or their queen. Then he
bade the fair Falerina good-by, and went forth from her
gardens in search of the far-famed dwelling of Morgan
Fay.
The Story of Roland,
ADVENTURE XVHL
MORGAN THE FAY.
THE castle of Morgan the Fay stood in a pleasant
valley between two forest-crowned mountains. It was
built of the finest white marble, as pure as alabaster,
and as clear as ice. The high walls which hemmed it
in on every side were of granite ; and the deep moat
was full of water and spanned by a single bridge. A
mighty giant, clad in steel armor, and wielding a huge
club, kept the bridge, and allowed no one to pass over
it unchallenged. And this giant had never yet been
foiled or beaten in battle ; for, whatever might be the
strength or the prowess of his foe, his own strength
was greater. Hence no living knight had ever entered
this fairy castle save as the prisoner of its grm warder.
Now, when Roland, eagerly pursuing his quest,
approached this bridge, the giant, as was his wont,
challenged him to a combat. The knight was nowise
loath to measure arms with a churl whose only virtue
was his strength. He drew the sword which Queen
Falerina with such infinite pains had wrought, and met
the giant on his own ground. The boasted armor of
Morgan the Fay. 233
the bridge warder was no proof against the biting
strokes of the magic blade. He would have been killed
upon the spot, had he not saved himseli by a cunning
stratagem Watching his chances, he seized the knight
in his arms, and leaped with him into the moat. He
could live in water as well as in air, and he hoped by
this means to drown the foe whom he could not over-
come by force of arms. But so well did Roland stiP
ply his sword, although half choked with the cold water,
that the giant was glad to let go his hold. The knight
rose to the surface, and climbed upon the bridge. The
gates were wide open, and he walked boldly through.
He found himself, to his astonishment, in a broad
field, where the ground was covered with diamonds and
pearls, rubies and emeralds, and every other sort of
gem-stone, as thickly as the spring meadows are covered
with sprouting grass. But he stopped not to gather or
to admire. He hastened across the field, and came into
a garden which was far more beautiful than that which
belonged to Falerina. Every thing tempted him to
stop, and to pursue no farther his uncertain quest. The
shady walks, the flowery borders, the cool bowers, the
plashing waterfalls, the rippling stream, the singing
birds, the sunshine, and the breeze, — all seemed to
say, " Stay ! here is happiness enough." But the hero
allowed none of these things to tempt him. He kept
always in mind that part of his knightly vows which
forbade him to give up any quest that he had ones
undertaken until he had followed it out to the end.
234 The Story of Roland,
In the middle of the garden there was a beautiful
fountain, and near it was a bower of surpassing loveli-
ness. Around the bower a score of fairies danced,
keeping time with the most bewitching strains of music
As Roland came near to this spot, the timid creatures
ceased their merriment, and fled in great affright. He
peeped into the bower, and beheld a being more beauti-
ful than his dreams had ever pictured. It was Morgan
the Fay, fast asleep on a bed of roses. Very small was
she, — as, indeed, were all the folk in this garden, — and
so wondrously fair that the knight stood long still, as if
entranced. And in fact it was only by bearing always
in mind his duty as a knight, that he resisted the
temptation to give up all his ambitious hopes, and, for-
getting the busy world of men, to swear fealty to the
fairy queen. Long he might have stood thus gazing,
and wavering between duty and inclination, had he not
heard a voice cry out, " Seize the beauty by the forelock
while yet the golden moment lasts ! '
Then Roland noticed for the first time that the back
part of the fay's head was quite bare and smooth, while
above her forehead there was a rich growth of long
golden hair. It was thus that men in the earlier days
pictured the head of old Father Time. The knight was
surprised at hearing the voice, and he thought not once
of obeying its strange command He looked up. A
wondrous sight met his eyes. Halfway between earth
and sky, hanging in mid-air, he saw, as he thought, a
great and busy city. There he beheld tail towers and
Morgan t/te Pay. 235
crystal palaces, and churches with their spires pointing
heavenward, and bustling market-places, and long lines
of streets crowded with hurrying men and women, and
cool, shaded avenues where knights and ladies walked,
and ail that makes up the glory, the beauty, and the
misery of a well-peopled burgh. For a time he forgot
where he was, and all about the errand which had taken
him there ; and he imagined himself to be no longer a
knight-errant courting danger, and bound on deeds of
love and daring, but a busy merchant in that air-built
city, intent upon showing his wares, and eagerly count-
ing his gains. While he still gazed, the vision slowly
faded away. Churches and palaces and market-places
and busy streets melted into thin airy clouds, and then
were seen no more.1 Then Roland, as if awakened from
a trance, remembered himself again, and the quest upon
which he was bound. He looked into the bower where
Morgan the Fay had been sleeping, but she was not
there. She had arisen, and with the lightness of a
leaf driven about by the fickle autumn wind she was
dancing before the fountain. And as she danced, she
u Seek'st thou gifts from Morgan le Fay ?
Seize her forelock whilst thou may,
Let not dreams thy purpose stay :
She'll not come another day.
Fortune's a fickle fairy.
* See Note 13 at the end of this votaac.
236 The Story of Roland.
Once, and only once, men say,
To every one she shows the way
To gain the good for which we pray.
While the sun shines, make the hay.
Fortune's a fickle fairy."
Roland hesitated. Had he been attacked by giants,
or set upon by fierce beasts, or had the doughtiest hero
in ail the world challenged him to a duel, or had he
been called upon to perform any deed of strength or
daring, he would not have paused to think, or to cal-
culate his chances. But to seize Morgan the Fay, this
fairy Fortune, while she danced in whirling mazes before
him, — he wondered how it could be done. While yet
he waited and doubted, the fay suddenly bounded away,
and fled from him with the fleetness of a deer hunted
by hounds. He followed as fast as his feet would carry
him, resolved now that nothing should hinder him from
attaining that fortune whose favors are but seldom with-
held from the brave. But the fairy, although at times
almost within his grasp, was not easily caught. She
led him a long chase through gardens and fields, and
among thickets of underbrush and briers, and over
many a barren, stony waste ; and at last she flew over
the top of a snow-crowned mountain, and the disap-
pointed knight never saw her again. Then a storm of
rain and hail burst from the clouds above ; and the light-
nings flashed, and the thunder rolled, and all the demons
of the air seemed to be abroad. And a gaunt and pale-
faced witch came out of a cavern on the mountain-side
Morgan the Fay.
with a scourge of leather thongs in her hand, and she
drove the hero down the slope, and back again into the
valley, lashing him at every step furiously and without
pity.
"Who are you?" asked he, meekly receiving hk
punishment "Who are you who dare thus to scourge
a peer of France ? '
" My name is Repentance," answered the hag. "It
is my duty to punish every one, who through hesitation
01 neglect fails to seize the fairy fortune at that one
golden moment which is allotted him. Go thou, now,
back to France. Thy quest is vain. The prize which
thou sought has been won by another."
When Roland came down again into the valley, he
looked to see the snow-white castle of Morgan the Fay,
and he thought to find himself still in the gardens of
Fairyland. But it was not so. Castles and towers,
rivers and fountains, flowers and birds, dragons and
giants, and all that had helped to make up those won-
drous scenes, had vanished like the mirage with which
he had been so enraptured. Splendid dreams had
given place to sober reality. The hero saw before him
the desert plains and the rocky mountains of Persia ;
and a voice whispered to him that fame and fortune
were to be attained, not through the pursuit of fairy
phantoms and vain chimeras, but by honest, worthy
deeds, and noble efforts for the bettering of humanity.
fn his hasty pursuit of the fairy he had lost the magic
sword that he had taken from Falerina. He was now
238 The Story of Roland.
without arms, and he had no horse. He was a stran
ger, alone in a strange land ; and many a weary league
and many unknown dangers lay between him and
sweet France.
As he stood at the foot of the mountain, pondering
upon this strange ending of his visionary quest, an o*d
man drew near, riding upon a mule and leading a war-
steed fully caparisoned, with saddle and bridle and
trappings of velvet and gold. Across the saddle bows
lay a sword, sheathed in its scabbard, but whose hilt
fairly shone with its wealth of priceless gems. The
horse was his own lost Brigliadoro, and the sword was
Durandal.
"Sir knight," said the old man very courteously,
" allow me to be your squire. I bring you your horse
and sword. Mount, I pray you, and let us hasten back
to France and to Charlemagne, who is in need of your
help."
" But the arms of Hector are not yet mine," an-
swered Roland ; " and I doubt if I may honorably return
without them."
" You can scarcely do otherwise," answered the
squire ; " for while you waited and dreamed, and hesi-
tated to seize the fairy by the forelock, another knight,
a Tartar prince, went boldly in, and seized the prize
and bore it away. And he is even now well on his way
toward France ; for he has vowed that he will win from
you the sword Durandai, and thus make all of Hector's
matchless arms his own."
Morgan the Fay. 239
Then Roland mounted Brigliadoro, and, followed by
the good squire, rode bravely back toward France.
But he coveted no longer the arms of Trojan Hector,
aad felt only happy in the possession of his own.
240 The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE XIX.
HOW OGIER REFUSED A KINGDOM.
LONG had been Roland's fruitless quest for the arms
of Trojan Hector ; and many were his adventures, as,
wiser but no richer, he fared homeward again. Time
would fail me to tell of the strange lands that he trav-
ersed, of the seas that he crossed, of the monsters that
he slew, and of his many knightly feats of arms. And,
when it was known that he had come back to France
without the prize for which he had been seeking, many
ankind words were whispered among the peers.
"A true knight," said old Ganelon, "never gives up
n undertaking once begun. Any but a coward would
rather die than say, * I have failed.'
Others whispered, that it was not the arms of Hector
at all, that Roland had been in quest of, but rather the
love of Angelica, the Princess of Cathay.
" And now, since she has slighted him, and cast him
off," said some, "he comes back again to lord it over
his betters, as of yore. Yet it is said that he did many
valiant deeds in the Far East"
"So much valor," said others, "would have been
better spent in the service of the king,"
How Ogier refused a Kingdom. 241
Charlemagne had been beset with enemies on every
side. The Moors of Spain had broken over the moun-
tain wall of the Pyrenees, and had again overrun Gas-
cony, and carried fire and sword into the fairest portions
of Southern France. The Saxons, ever restless and ill
at ease, had again taken up arms against the empire,
The wild Hungarians had been making inroads into the
eastern provinces ; and the Lombards were ready at
any time to rise in rebellion. Very gladly, therefore,
did the king welcome his valiant nephew back to
France, for he needed the help of his strong arm.
One day early in spring there came to Charlemagne's
court a number of Danish knights bearing a message
from their king, the false-hearted Godfrey of Denmark.
They brought from Godfrey a great store of rich pres-
ents for Charlemagne, and treasure more than enough
to make amends for the tribute which had so long been
neglected and left unpaid. And the Danish king prayed
Charlemagne that he would pardon his former miscon-
duct, and receive him once more into humble and faith-
ful vassalage; for pirates and strange sea-kings from
the Far North had come down upon the coast of Den
mark, and were robbing and burning, and carrying ter-
ror into the very heart of the country, and Godfrey
hoped that Charlemagne would aid him in driving out
the invaders. Charlemagne, although not always quick
to forgive, was quite ready at this trying time to make
friends with the Dane. And he kindly entertained the
messengers, and sent them back on the morrow, with
242 The Story of Roland.
assurances that he would pardon the offences of King
Godfrey, and send him the wished-for aid. Then he
called Ggier the Dane into his presence.
"Ogier," said he, "your father, the king of Den-
mark, is sorely pressed by his enemies, and needs our
help. No one knows better than yourself how he has
neglected and cast you off among strangers. And yet
it is our wish that you lead a company of warriors to
his aid.'*
" It is well," answered Ogier. " Naught save death
can ever excuse a son from helping his father."
A thousand knights, the bravest in all France, at
once enlisted under Ogier' s banner ; and without a
day's delay they began their march toward Denmark.
With Ogier, and next to him in command, was Roland ;
and the very presence of the two heroes inspired the
whole of the little army with high-hearted enthusiasm
and courage. Their march was rapid, and not long
were they in reaching the land of the Danes. But the
foe whom they sought had fled ; for, when the rude
sea-kings heard of the coming of the steel-clad warriors
of the South, they hastily embarked in their ships again,
and sailed across the sea to other shores. They lived
by pillage and robbery, and they were fearful of risking
a battle with an enemy so renowned and powerful.
Ogier with his little army now rode on toward his
father's castle. But, as Aiiey drew near, they saw the
towers draped in black, and heard the bells tolling a
solemn knell. A black banner, on which the arms oi
Ogier refused a Kingdom. 243
King Godfrey were rudely painted, floated above the
gate. And a company of knights, all clad in mourning,
came out to meet and welcome the heroes.
" What mean all these signs of sorrow ? " asked
Ogier. "We have come to you expecting to be greeted
with cheers and songs and glad thanksgiving, and we
find naught but weeping and doleful signs of death,
Has any thing happened amiss to my father the king ? >!
"Alas !" said the sorrowing knights, "he is dead."
Then Ogier, unable to answer by reason of his great
grief, covered up his face, and wept. And Roland and
the Danish knights led him into the castle and into the
chapel, where the body of King Godfrey lay. The hero
knelt beside his father's bier, and bathed the face of
the dead with his tears. Touching indeed was it to be-
hold this warrior melted with sorrow in the presence of
death. For although he had been maltreated and de-
spised, and cast out among strangers, he had never for-
gotten that a son's first duty is to honor his father.
Long he knelt on the floor of the little chapel, while
the monks who watched beside the corpse chanted
their prayers, and told their beads ; and the tapers on
the altar burned low ; and the daylight gave place to
darkness. Then he arose, and v/as about to leave the
room, when the priest who had been his father's con-
fessor touched him on the shoulder.
" Ogier," said he, " allow me to be the first to greet
you as king of Denmark. The last words of your
father were, ' Let Ogier be king.'
244 Tfa .Story of Roland.
Ogier stood for a moment in silent thought. He
hesitated as to what his duty might be. Ought he, by
taking that which was clearly his own, to deprive his
younger brother of the crown which he had been taught
£o expect ? Suddenly a heavenly light burst upon him
and filled the room with its soft radiance ; and a voice
like that of an angel said, —
" Ogier, take not this crown. Leave it to Guyon thy
young brother. It is enough for thee to bear the title
of 'The Dane,' Fame waits for thee elsewhere, and
greater kingdoms than that of Denmark may be thine."
It was the voice of Morgan the Fay, the fairy guard-
ian of his life. But Ogier thought that it was an
angel from heaven who had spoken ; and he humbly
crossed himself, and bowed in submission to the com-
mand. He sought without delay the step-mother who
had so cruelly wronged him.
"Mother," said he, "all that which thou hast so long
desired has come to pass."
And he embraced his young brother Guyon, and
hailed him king. And he said, " I am a peer of
France, a knight of the household of Charlemagne. I
seek no higher honors/1
And heralds were sent into every city and burgh
proclaiming Guyon as the lawful king of all Denmark.
And Guyon solemnly promised to hold his kingdom in
fief and vassalage from Charlemagne,
How Roland slew a Sea Monster. 245
ADVENTURE XX.
HOW ROLAND SLEW A SEA MONSTER.
WHEN, at length, the days of mourning for Duk*
Godfrey were passed, Ogier and the knights who were;
with him turned their faces southward, and rode back
again to France. But Roland parted from their com-
pany, and went another way, for Charlemagne had
intrusted him with a message to Oberto, the king oi
Ireland ; and to that country he directed his course.
At the nearest port on the coast a little ship awaited
him ; and in this he embarked, and sailed across the
western sea.
For many days the vessel ploughed the waters, and
the sky was clear, arid the wind was fair, arid the voy-
age was a happy one. And those on board beguiled
the hours with pleasant talk and with many wonderful
tales of the sea. The captain was a browned and
weather-beaten Norseman, who had sailed the waters
for more than twoscore years, and who knew every
strait and shallow and every point of land, from Goth-
land to the Pillars of Hercules. And he delighted to
tell of the many scenes of danger through which be
246 The Story of Roland.
had passed, and of the feats of daring which he had
seen on land and sea, and of the strange beings which
people the deep. One day he talked about the mer-
maids and the men of the sea ; and he told of the great
Midgard snake whom the Northmen believe to lie hid*
den in the deepest ocean ; and he related the story ol
Old ./Egir the Ocean King, and of his nine daughters,
the white-veiled Waves. And when he had finished,
Roland said that what he had told reminded him of cer-
tain stories which he had heard in the South, — stories
of the old Pagan times, when the gods were thought
to live on earth, and to take some sort of interest in
the doings of men. And he spoke of Poseidon, whom
the Greeks called the ruler of the sea; and of old
Nereus and his fifty daughters, the silver-footed sea
nymphs. And this led him to relate the beautiful fable
of Andromeda, and her rescue by Perseus from the sea
monster whom Poseidon had sent to devour her.
"But the gods are all dead now," said he, "and
neither ^gir nor Poseidon rules the sea."
Then an old Irish harper who happened to be on
shipboard spoke, and said, "Sir knight, if all reports
be true, some of the sea deities still live, and are known
m regions where the Christian religion has not yet
been preached. Indeed, I have heard that in the Island
of Ebuda, a day's sail west of Ireland, old Proteus, the
servant of Poseidon, is even now imitating the deeds
>f his ancient master."
Then the company insisted that the harper should
How Roland slew a Sea Monster. 247
tell them all that he knew about this matter, and he
did as they desired him.
"In the golden age/' said he, "it was the task of
Proteus to keep the seals and sea calves for his master
Poseidon, to lead them into the pleasantest waters
and to the freshest pastures, and to see that no one
wilfully harmed them. When the times changed, and
his old master was dethroned and no longer needed his
services, he still kept on herding and caring for the
seals and sea calves ; for the power of habit was so
strong that he could not tear himself away from his old
haunts, nor change his occupation. And as he was usu-
ally very peaceable, and thought to be quite harmless,
very little attention was paid to him ; and he was
allowed to live on, and ply his vocation, long after all
the other sea deities were deposed and forgotten. One
day, as he was driving about in his swan chariot, and
looking after his herds, he came to this Island of Ebuda
of which I have just spoken. It chanced, that, as he.
drove close by the shore, the golden-haired daughter of
the King of Ebuda stood on the beach. She was more
passing fair than ever were the sea nymphs of old, or
the mermaids, or the white-veiled daughters of ^Egir.
And the heait of the ancient Proteus was moved with
love for the maiden, and he forthwith besought the king
that he would give her to him in marriage. But the
father of the maiden scorned his suit. Should he, the
king of Ebuda, wed his only daughter to the last of a
dying race, — to the last and the least worthy of the
248 The Story of Roland.
— '
sea gods ? Let him go back to his seals and sea-calves,
and never again think of making himself the peer ol
human beings.
" Then the love of old Proteus was changed to hate,
and he vowed that he would not rest nor slumber until
he had avenged the slight that had thus been put upon
him. And he sent great troops of sea calves to ravage
the coasts of Ebuda ; and after them he caused a huge
and shapeless monster, called an ore, to come, and over-
run the whole island. Never was there greater dis-
tress and terror. The frightened people fled from their
farms and villages, and sought safety in the walled
towns ; and, between famine and the ravages of the
sea monsters, it seemed as if the entire nation would be
destroyed. Now, it appears that there was in Ebuda
some kind of an oracle, in whose decisions the people
placed great trust. And the king prayed the oracle
that he might know how to appease the anger of old
Proteus, and turn his fearful wrath away. And the
oracle answered, and said that this could be done only
by offering a daily sacrifice to Proteus to be devoured
by the monster ore.
" « What shall that sacrifice be ? ' asked the king.
" 3 The fairest maiden that can be found either in
Ebuda or in the neighboring isles,' was the answer.
" * And how long shall this fearful payment of tribute
continue ? ' asked the king.
" And the oracle answered, ' Until a hero shall come
to Ebuda' s shores brave enough and strong enough to
How Roland slew a Sea Monster. 249
slay the ore. Then, and not till then, will Proteus with
draw the curse which he has laid upon you, and eave
your people in peace/
44 And it was done as the oracle had bidden. Each
day a damsel, the fairest that could be found, was of
fered to the ore ; and the creature ceased his ravagess
and allowed the people to return to their homes and
farms. And each day, as a new victim was led to the
horrible sacrifice, the people prayed for the coming of
the hero who should save their loved ones from this
dreadful doom. But he came not.
"And it is said that still in the Island of Ebuda this
cruel usage is continued, and that the Pagan folk who
live in that land no longer look upon this sacrifice with
horror and aversion, but that, grown barbarous and un-
feeling, they send their ships to the neighboring coasts,
and bring home scores of fair captives to be offered to
the bloodthirsty ore. Many a noble Irish maiden, I
know, has been stolen from our shores, and sacrificed
thus horribly by the Ebudans."
" Where sayest thou this savage Island of Ebuda
lies ? ' asked Roland.
" In the great western ocean," answered the harper,
* It lies many leagues west of green Erin."
"Turn, then, thy course, good sea captain," said Ro-
land to the master of the ship. " Steer straight for that
island kingdom. If such barbarous custom still con-
tinues there, it shall not be much longer."
But the winds, as if in league with the wrathful Pro-
250 The Story of Roland.
teus, hesitated to hasten the vessel on its way ; and as
the eagerness of the knight waxed stronger, so was the
progress of the ship delayed. Sometimes the breeze
died away, and there was a calm ; the sails hung loose
and useless upon the masts, and, had not the seamen
plied their oars, the vessel would have stood still
Sometimes a west wind sprang up, and blew strong
against them, and they were forced to tack about, and
veer far from their intended course. And so it befell
that many days passed by, ere, at length, they came in
sight of the wooded shores of Ebuda, and the captain
pointed out the high rock where the fair victims were
daily left as food for the ravenous ore.
When they drew near the place, Roland ordered the
ship's boat to be lowered ; and in it he placed the largest
anchor and the strongest cable that could be found
Then he sat down in the boat ; and alone and unarmed>
save that he carried the trusty Durandal, he rowed
toward the rock. It was about the hour of sunrise, —
the time when the monster, they said, was wont to
come for his daily meal. As the hero rowed close to the
shore, he fancied that he heard faint moans, and feeble
cries of distress. He looked around, and saw a maiden
chained to the rock with iron links, her feet wetted by
the rising tide, and her face hidden beneath the long
tresses of golden hair that fell about her neck and
shoulders. His heart melted with pity, and the sight
nerved his arm for the strange contest which was near.
He was about to speak to the maiden, when a sudden
How Roland slew a Sea Monster, 251
sound was heard, — a roaring like that of a strong wind
among the forest trees, or of the waves rolling madly
into some ocean cave. He heard the loud shouts of his
companions on shipboard : the breakers began to rise
around his little boat. The monster was at hand,, huge
as a rock-built castle, dark and terrible as a thunder-
cloud, fearless as the waves themselves.
Quickly Roland went to meet the beast ; he stood up
in the boat with the anchor in his hand ; quietly he
awaited the onset. The ore saw him, and opened his
jaws to swallow both him and the boat The red eyes
of the creature glared like baleful bonfires in the morn-
ing light ; his huge tail lashed the waters into a foam.
It was a fearful moment, but Roland faltered not. He
raised the heavy anchor still higher ; and then, with the
strength of a knight well trained in the use of every
weapon, he hurled it into the monster's wide-open
mouth. And there it remained, propping the huge
jaws apart, and so firmly fixed that the ore could by no
means remove it. At nearly the same moment Roland
drew his sword, the mighty Durandal ; and, calling up all
his strength, he struck the monster a blow which almost
severed his head from his body. Then guarding the
rope to which the anchor was fastened, he seized the
oars, and rowed swiftly to the shore. He leaped upon
the beach ; and, encouraged by the shouts and cheers of
his friends on board the ship, he dragged the now dead
monster to the land.
And now he bethought him of the captive maiden
The Story of Roland.
chained to the rock, and half fallen into a swoon,
scarcely knowing that she had been saved from the
terrible death that had threatened her. With a single
stroke of Durandal, the hero severed the iron links ;
and then he took her gently by the hand, and led her
away from that dreadful rock, and seated her in a pleas-
ant, sunny place high on the shore. With kind and
cheerful words he sought to arouse her drooping spirits ;
for she seemed dazed and bewildered, as if waking from
a dream, and unable for a time to remember where she
was. He asked her her name, and inquired how she, so
unlike the dwellers in Ebuda, had been cast on this
barbarous shore and offered in sacrifice to the blood-
thirsty ore. She told him that her name was Olympia,
and that, in her own home beyond the seas, she was a
princess, loved and honored by hosts of subjects. And
then she related, how, one day while walking alone or?
the seashore, she had been seized by pirates from Ebu-
da, and, with other fair captives, had been brought to
this savage shore, and reserved as a peace-offering to
the monster whom the Ebudans foolishly believed to
have been sent by old Proteus.
Scarcely had the princess ended her story when a
new and unexpected danger threatened our hero. The
folk of Ebuda had heard of the strange combat between
the knight and the ore, and now in great numbers they
came trooping to the shore. They stood upon the cliffs
above, and along the beach, and some carne down even
to the water's edge, to see the dead monster and the
How Roland slew a Sea Monster* 253
hero who had slain him. But, although they had been
freed from the terror of their lives, they were not
pleased ; neither felt they in the least thankful to their
deliverer.
"Alas !" cried they, "this man has slain the servant
of old Proteus, and now it will go hard with us who
were charged with his keeping. For will not the sea
god curse us again, and send his herds of sea calves to
lay waste our shores ? Better it is to endure a single
evil than to risk the coming of a multitude of others.
The poor ore was not as bad as he might have been ;
and, now he is dead, there is no telling what may befall
us."
«
That is true/' answered others ; " and the only safe
way for us to do is to turn away the wrath of old Pro-
teus by punishing the man who has lifted up his sacri
legious hand against the ore. Let us pitch this busy
meddler, whoever he may be, into the sea, that he may
give his own account to the outraged sea god whom we
serve.'
Then a great clamor and shouting arose ; and those
who stood highest upon the cliffs began hurling stones
and darts at Roland ; and those who were nearest
rushed toward him with drawn swords. There is no
telling what would have been the end of this affray, had
not a company of armed knights rushed unexpectedly
upon the scene. They were men of Ireland, who with
their king, Oberto, had come with a fleet of ships to
punish the savage islanders for their piracies upon the
254 ^e Story of Roland,
Irish shores. So great was the surprise of the Ebu-
dans that they turned at once, and fled in wild diumay
from the shore ; nor did they stop in their flight until
they were safely shut up within their city walls.
The meeting between Roland and King Obertv was
a happy one ; for they had been pages together at the
court of Charlemagne, and they recognized each other
as old and tried friends. And when the Irish king saw
the dead ore, and heard Roland's story of the combat
which had taken place, he resolved that he would return
at once to his own land and leave the Ebudans in peace.
And when all had gone aboard their ships again, the
sails were spread, and the fleet sped gayly back toward
Ireland. And Roland and the Princess Olympia were
guests on board the king's own vessel. And old stories
tell us that Oberto afterwards wedded Olympia, making
her the Queen of Ireland ; and that for many years they
lived most happily together, loved and honored by all
their subjects. As for Roland, he tarried not long at
the Irish court ; but, having delivered the message
which he bore from Charlemagne, he took ship again*
uid hastened back to France.1
Note 14 24 tfes eed ef this
How Roland fell into Prison. 255
ADVENTURE XXI.
HOW ROLAND FELL INTO PRISON.
IT was indeed high time that Roland should hastei
his return to France; for Charlemagne, hard pressed
by foes on every side, was in sore need of help. From
every Saracen land, fierce hordes of Pagans came pour-
ing into France, and threatening to overrun the whole
of Christendom. Sacripant, the Circassian king, with
ten thousand picked warriors from Persia and India,
had landed on the southern coast, vowing that he would
not return to his own country until he had overcome
Charlemagne in battle and made France his own.
Marsilius of Spain had again crowed the Pyrenees with
his Moorish chivalry, and had hastened to join his forces
with those of Sacripant, Agramont, the king of Africa,
with a great fleet of ships, was coming over the sea ;
and Rodomont, the most renowned of all the Algerian
chiefs, had landed near Marseilles. Unless help should
come soon, it seemed as if all France would fall into
the hands of the Pagans. Charlemagne hastily gathered
his hosts together, and marched to meet the foe. With
him were many of his bravest knights, — Duke Namon,
256 Ttie Story of Roland.
and Ganelon, and Oliver, and Ogier the Dane, and
Richard of Normandy. But Reinold of Montalban was
in England, and Roland had not yet returned from his
embassy to the Irish king.
Christians and Saracens met face to face in a wooded
valley between two mountains, and both sides began to
make ready for battle; but the unbelievers outnum-
bered the Christians two to one.
"If Roland were only here," said the French among
themselves, " all would go well with us. His presence
would be worth more than a thousand men."
Just as the fray was about to begin, a fair lady was
brought as a prisoner before King Charlemagne. It
was Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. What mishap
had again forced her to leave her native land, and placed
her at this moment in the power of the Christian
king ? Some said that she was a witch, and that she
had come hither to ply her magic arts for the destruc-
tion of the Christian host ? Others whispered that she
had followed Roland from the Far East, and that she
bore in her heait great love for that matchless hero.
But the truth of the matter is, that a scheming thief
had stolen her magic ring, and carried it to Africa or to
Spain ; and it was in search of this wonderful talisman
that she had come again to the West The king com-
manded that the maiden should be closely guarded
until after the battle ; and he said that then he would
find out the measure of her faults, and decide
punishment should be hers,
How Roland fell into Prison 257
The battle began. Many were the deeds of valor on
both sides, and never before had the peers of France
fought so bravely. But to the Saracens the victory
seemed, from the beginning, to be assured. Oliver
was unhorsed ; Ogier was sorely beset by numbers of
Moorish knights ; Duke Namon was taken prisoner,
Ganelon, the traitor and coward, giving up all for lost,
turned, and fled ingloriously from the field. The king
himself was wounded, and with great difficulty saved
himself from capture. The Pagans were everywhere
the masters.
" If Roland or Reinold had been here, it would not
have been so," sadly said the defeated knights as they
unwillingly withdrew from the fight.
When the squires who had been left behind to guard
the Princess Angelica learned that the day was lost,
they mounted their horses, and fled in great disorder
from the scene of battle. The maiden, finding her-
self free, also mounted a palfrey, and rode aimlessly
away.
As Angelica wandered onward through the wood,
trembling at every sound, and fearing to be overtaken
by either Christian or Moor, she came at length to the
bank of a deep and rapid-lowing river. Anxiously she
rode up and down, seeking to find some shallow ford, or
other means of crossing. While doing this, she was
startled by seeing in the middle of the stream a tall
knight, dark-browed and fierce, wading about as if in
search of something lost in the water. The knight's
258 The Story of Roland.
head was bare, and she rightly guessed that it was his
helmet which he sought in the rushing river. She had
seen that cruel, brutish face once before. What if he
should see her, and make her his prisoner? She
stopped not a moment, but turned her palfrey about,
and again sought safety in the leafy shadows of the
wood.
It was the Moorish prince Ferrau, whom Angelica
had seen wading in the stream. He had paused in his
fierce pursuit of the vanquished Christians to quench
his thirst from the river. As he bent over, his helmet
— the very one that he had stolen from the murdered
Argalia of Cathay — slipped from his head, and fell into
the water. Vainly did he seek for it. Vainly did he
wade up and down, and dive beneath the surface, groping
with hands and feet upon the slippery bottom. From
an overnanging tree he broke a forked branch, and
with it raked and dredged with fruitless care the river
from shore to shore. No helmet could he find. He
was about to give up the search, when a strange figur«
seemed to rise up in the water before him. The fierce
Moor had never known such thing as fear. In the
dreadful din of battle, with death before him and threat-
ening foes on every side, he had never shrunk from
danger. But now, at sight of that mysterious figure,
he trembled in every limb, and the hair on his uncov-
ered head stood out like the bristles tf a porcupine.
Never was knight so utterly horrified. It was a dim
white figure that rose up silentlv before th^ Moor.
How Roland fell into Prison. 259
the light mist which sometimes hangs over river and
racadow in the early morning twilight. But its shape
was that of a man, — of a warrior in white armor, his
head uncovered, his face beaming in the uncertain light
of evening, his right arm uplifted as if to threaten or
to warn. To Ferrau this ghostly shape was none other
than the spirit of Argalia, the Prince of Cathay, whom
he had foully slain in the wood of Ardennes. He tried
to fly from the spot ; but his feet were rooted to the
ground, and the cold waters of the river seemed to
hem him in, and hold him there. Then he saw that
the figure held in its left hand the helmet which he
had been seeking, — Argalia's helmet, — dripping with
water, and glittering brightly in the light of the rising
moon.
" Foul traitor ! ' said the ghost, " this helmet is none
of thine, and nevermore shall it incase thy brutish
head. If helmet thou wouldst have, go win it ! Win
Reinold's, or the matchless Roland's. Argalia will
have his own."
Then the figure slowly melted away in the moon-
ight. And Ferrau found himself standing on the
shore, his teeth chattering from terror, and his limbs
aunib with cold. It might have been merely a horrid
dream, — this vision of the slain Argalia, — yet the
fierce Ferrau did not think so. He verily believed that
he had seen a ghost And as he mounted his steed,
and rode away from the scene of his fright, he vowed
that nevermore should laelmet touch his head until
260 The Story of Roland.
he had won, by fair means or by foul, the matchless
casque of Roland.
In the mean while Roland, returning from Ireland,
was riding leisurely toward Paris. He had not yet
heard of the Saracen invasion, and he knew not how
greatly his presence was needed in the South. But
messengers from Charlemagne met him on the road,
and told him how the Saracens had landed on the
southern coasts, and how, in the late battle, the French
had been sorely defeated. " My warriors are altogether
disheartened," was the word they brought from Charle-
magne. "They will not fight unless Roland leads
them against the foe."
So Roland hurried forward with all haste to join the
king. He stopped but an hour at Paris to see his
mother, the Princess Bertha, and then, without further
delay, he gave spur to Brigliadoro, and rode straight
onward toward the Pyrenees. Not once during the
day did he leave his saddle ; and at night, whether he
reposed in the castle of some friendly baron, or whether
he lay down to sleep in some lonely wood, he never re-
moved his armor. And the good people along his route
came out and blessed him, "Now will the arms of
Charlemagne prevail," said they; "for Roland rides to
the rescue." And many who through fear had fied
from their homes took fresh heart when they saw the
gallant hero ; and they turned back again, resolved to
fight bravely for their country so long as their lives
were sparer!
How Roland fell into Prison. 261
One day, as Roland was crossing a plain at the foot
of a range of mountains, an unexpected sight met his
view. High up on the top of a steep mountain crag,
seemingly among the clouds, he saw a beautiful and
strangely built castle. The battlements and toweri
gleamed in the sunlight like burnished steel, and it
seemed hardly possible that any creature without wings
could scale the steep heights upon which the airy
fortress was built. As our hero paused, and admired
the strange structure, and wondered by what pathway
it might be reached, he fancied that he heard a cry of
distress near at hand. He spurred his horse forward
toward the place whence the sound came, and was sur-
prised to see an armed knight riding leisurely across
the plain in the direction of the castle. Before him,
lying across the pommel of the saddle, the knight held
a captive maiden, who struggled and wept, and called
out loudly for help. The cries of helpless innocence
never fell in vain on Roland's ears ; and, no matter
whether they came from the lips of a princess or those
of a peasant, he was equally quick and ready to rush to
the rescue. He gave spurs to Brigliadoro, and galloped
nearer, The maiden was very beautiful ; and the rich
clothing and the jewels which she wore showed that
she was a lady of no mean birth. He fancied that she
looked strangely like Angelica, the Princess of Cathay.
He called to the felon knight who carried her, and bade
him stop. But the more he called, the faster did the
stranger urge onward his steed. Swiftlv across the
262 The Story of Roland.
plain flew Brigliadoro in pursuit ; but the knight held
on his way, and was not to be overtaken.
Up the steep mountain side, along pathways narrow
and rough, pursued and pursuer climbed; and, ere he was
aware, Roland found himself inside the narrow court-
yard of the castle. The place was one of rare richness
and beauty, and more like the palaces of the Far East
than the warlike fortresses of the Goths and Franks.
The walls were built of granite, the yard was paved
with marble, the great gate was of gold, and the doors
were of steel inlaid with ivory : the towers and battle-
ments were plated with polished steel. A very magi-
cian's castle it was, perched on the topmost crag of the
mountain, and almost seeming to hang suspended in
the air. At the door of the great hall, the knight dis-
mounted ; and, leaving Brigliadoro behind, he stalked
boldly into the inmost palace, still intent on finding the
felon knight, and setting his fair captive free. Through
hallway and chamber and spacious kitchen he passed,
calling loudly, but receiving no answer save the hollow
echoes of his own voice. Then to the upper rooms he
climbed, and to every chamber and balcony he went.
Rich and fair were all the appointments in this
stronghold. The ceilings were high and bright; the
walls were hung with richest curtains, and adorned
with finest tapestry; the floors were hidden beneath
soft carpets such as were known only in Persia and in
the remotest lands of the Saracens ; the beds were of
the softest down, and curtained with cloth-of-gold and thf
How Roland fell into Prison. 263
rarest blue silk. Yet Roland stopped not to admire this
richness and beauty. He climbed to the tops of tht
towers, he went down into the cellars, and even intc
the dungeons beneath the prison tower ; but not «
human being did he see or hear. He wondered why *
palace so richly furnished should be empty of inhabit
ants. It angered him to think that those who lived in
the castle were doubtless skulking slily in some secret
hiding-place, and watching every movement that he
made. He called out again, more loudly than before ;
he challenged, he threatened : yet no one answered
At last, finding that the search was a vain one, he
went again into the courtyard, and remounted Brig-
Hadoro. He would give up this useless quest, and
hasten to continue his journey. What was his surprise
and anger to find the great gates closed and barred !
Furiously he shook them, calling to the porter to
unfasten them and let him go. Still not a man could
he see or hear. Finally he again dismounted, and went
by another way into the palace, He fancied that he
heard the sound of voices. He looked into the ban
quet room, and there, seated at the table, were a scoi
of armed knights, loudly talking while they feasted
He found upon inquiry that they, like himself, had
been entrapped in this strange place ; and none of them
knew who was lord of the castle, or where he had hid-
den himself. Yet all had some charge of villany to pre
fer against their unknown host One complained that
he had stolen his steed ; another, that he had treacher
264 The Story of Roland.
ously taken his arms ; another, that he had imprisoned
a near and dear friend, or carried away his lady-love.
AU were raging with anger and disappointment ; and
all were equally resolved to punish the offender most
unmercifully, should they ever be able to find him
Among these knights were some of the bravest
Saracen chiefs, - - fierce Ferrau the Spanish Moor,
Sacripant the Circassian king, Gradasso the king oi
Sericane, and a noble Moorish youth named Roger.
But such was the witchery of the magician who had
entrapped them in this cage, that these warriors did
not know each other, nor did they care to know. They
only thought of the vile deception which had led them
there, and joined in forming plans to escape. Then,
when their anger began to cool, they wisely concluded
to make the best of their strange imprisonment, hoping
that it would not last long. They amused themselves
at quiet games in the hall ; they listened to sweet
strains of music played by unseen hands ; they engaged
in manly feats of arms in the narrow courtyard ; they
sat at table in the banquet hall, and feasted on choice
viands brought to them by speechless attendants. Yet
they never laid off their armor, nor put aside their
arms. And their steeds stood always in the stables,
saddled and bridled, and ready, on a moment's notice>
to be mounted and ridden away.
Day after day passed by, and, for aught they knew,
veeks and months, and the captive knights found no
leans by which they could break away from their
How Roland fell into Prison. 265
enchanted prison. Nor could they have escaped at all,
had not help come to them from without. And now,
that we may learn how this help was brought, we must
leave them for a while, and visit other scenes, and be-
come acquainted with personages whom we have not
yet met.
266 The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE XXI L
BRADAMANT THE WARRIOR MAIDEN.
THE Princess Angelica, frightened at sight of the
fierce Moor wading in the river and searching for his
lost helmet, fled through the forest as fast as her poor
palfrey could carry her. Ah, how she wished now for
the magic ring which had so often befriended and saved
her ! With its aid she might have bidden defiance to
danger, and flown safely and quickly back to Cathay.
But, having it not, she was fain perforce to fare like
other folk, and plod painfully and slowly, on foot or on
horseback, from one place to another. Yet whither
now should she go? That was a question which she
could not answer. It seemed to her that all men were
her foes, and her chief thought was to keep safely out
of sight of every one. For a day and a night, and half
the following day, she wandered through dark and
dreary woods, or across barren and lonely moorlands,
shrinking from every sound, and affrighted even by the
rustling of the leaves.
At about noon on the second day, the princess found
herself so wearied with her long flight, and so overcome
Bradamant the Warrior Maiden. 267
by the heat, that she could go no farther. She was
close to a thicket of flowering hawthorns and wild-rose
bushes, overshadowed bv tall oak trees. So cool and
j
secluded was the place, that it seemed to invite her to
stop and rest. Down from the saddle she sprang among
the untrodden flowers ; and she gently removed the bri
die from her faithful palfrey's head, and turned him
loose to graze along the river's bank. Then, within the
thicket, she found a pleasant bower, where the leaves
and twigs were so interlaced that the light of day could
scarcely struggle through ; and there, on a bed of moss
and flowers, the over-wearied maiden sank down and
sought repose. On either side of the thicket a brook-
let strayed, singing a pleasant lullaby as it murmured
over the pebbles ; and the gentle zephyr stole through
the leaves and branches, and lovingly kissed the maid-
en's cheek, and told her of happier and more peaceful
climes. Scarcely had she touched her woodland couch,
when her eyes closed in slumber ; and she forgot her
terror and her flight and her great weariness, and
dreamed only of her palace home in the sunrise land
of Cathay.
How long the princess slept, I cannot tell. But
when she awoke, she fancied that she heard the tramp
of a horse not far from her resting place. It was not
the light tread of her palfrey, but sounded more like
the heavy step of a war steed. She arose softly, and
peeped out through the leaves and branches. An
armed knight sat by the river's bank, while his steed
268 The Story of Roland,
L j, II ' 1 «^HHB«M«M«B «•*
stood cropping the grass close by. In doleful mood
seemed this knight; his head was resting upon his
hand ; his eyes were downcast and sad. Long time sat
he there, silent and thoughtful ; and then he began to
bewail some cruel mishap that had overtaken him.
" Ah, me I " cried he. " How false and cruel is for-
tune ! What avails the victory that we have won, when
the hopes which were nearest my heart have corne to
naught ? Better would it have been, had I died on the
field of battle."
Angelica, in her safe hiding-place, heard the knight's
piteous plaint. She fancied that she knew that voice :
she had certainly heard it before. She longed to see
the face of the speaker. A dry twig snapped under
her feet: the knight, in alarm, sprang up and looked
around. It was indeed he: it was Sacripant the Cir-
cassian king, her father's friend and her own. It was
for her sake that he had come from the Far East, and
joined himself to the foes of France and Christendom ;
and it was for her sake that he had fought so valiantly
in the late battle. For he hoped, that, by thus proving
his valor as a warrior, the heart of the maiden would
be kindly inclined toward him. But now, after the
battle had been fought and won, he could hear no tid-
ings of Angelica, and it had been whispered tnat she
had returned alone to Cathay. And the sorrowful king
moaned, and beat his breast, and bewailed that he had
ever been born.
The princess heard the words of the dolorous knight,
Bradamani the Warrior Maiden. 269
and was not slow to learn the cause of his grief. But
her heart was still her own, and she felt neither love
nor pity for him. Yet she was sadly in need of a
friend ; and she knew that Sacripant, with all his faults,
would prove kind and true. She resolved, therefore, to
make herself known to him. So, softly as the summer's
breeze in the meadows, she stepped from her hiding-
place ; and, radiant with mingled smiles and tears, she
glided to the place where he sat
" God bless you ! ' said she, laying her white hand on
his shoulder ; "and may he put all troublesome thoughts
out of your mind."
Never was brave knight so wonder-stricken. Fie
could scarcely believe that it was indeed Angelica who
stood thus unexpectedly before him : he thought that it
was her spirit, or that some cunning wizard was deceiv-
ing him. But when she spoke to him again, and called
him by name, his doubts vanished, and he welcomed her
most joyfully. Then the two sat down together on the
grassy bank, and talked of plans for the future ; and
they resolved that they would forever quit the land of
France, where both had met with only disappointments,
and together hasten back to Cathay.
While they were yet talking, a noise was heard in the
wood close by, — the sound of tramping feet and clang
ing armor. Sacripant, not knowing whether it was a
friend or a foe, at once donned his helmet, mounted his
steed, and placed his lance in rest. A single knight,
clad in steel, came threading his way through the
270 The Story of Roland.
wood. He wore over his armor a snow-white mantle
bordered with ermine ; above his helmet there waved a
large white plume; and the steed which he rode was
the color of milk. His shield, too, was white, and OB
it were emblazoned the arms of Montalban. Whec
Sacripant saw that it was a Christian who approached
he challenged him at once to engage in deadly combat
The stranger was no whit alarmed by the overbearing
mood and tone of the Circassian. He said not a word
in answer, but quietly laid his lance in rest, and made
ready for the onset. Both knights struck spurs at the
same moment, and, with the fury of untamed lionsr
rushed toward each other. The lances of both were
broken in twain ; and, as each struck the other, the
earth seemed to tremble beneath them, and the woods
and hills rang with the sound. The Circassian's horse
fill dead upon the ground; and the White Knight's
steed was brought to its knees. Sacripant was so en-
tangled in the trappings of his horse, and so weighted
down with his armor, that it was some time before he
could gain his feet But the stranger, deeming that
he had done enough for his own honor's sake, touched
his horse gently with the spur, and rode carelessly away.
Not a word did he say, nor did he glance once back to
the place where the discomfited Pagan lay.
With troubled face, and many half-smothered curses,
the Circassian arose from the ground. He cared not
so much for the bruises which he had gotten by the
fall, as for the disgrace of being thus unhorsed in
Bradamant the Warrior Maiden. 271
presence of the princess. But Angelica, as if scarce)}?
noticing his mishap, consoled and cheered him with
kind, courageous words.
"Surely, sir knight," said she, "it was not youi
fault that you tumbled upon the grass, but rather that
of the awkward beast who lies dead at your feet
Come, my lord, cheer up, and let us out of the wood,
and away to dear Cathay ! '
While she was speaking, a messenger mounted on a
fleet horse, and bearing pouch and horn, rode toward
them. Both man and beast were covered with dust,
and seemed weary with long travel.
" Kind sir," said the messenger to the Circassian,
" have you lately seen a warrior pass this way, bearing
a white shield, and riding a milk-white steed ? '
"Indeed," said Sacripant, "I have seen him to my
sorrow. It was such a knight who but a few minutes
ago threw me headlong into the grass, and then went
proudly on his way. Tell me his name, I pray thee,
that I may remember him another day."
" Willingly will I tell you," answered the rider ; " for
you will be proud to know that you have been defeated
by no common warrior. The knight with the white
shield is none other than Bradamant the warrior
maiden, the fair sister of Reinold of Montalban." And
with these words and a laugh of derision, the man put
spurs to his jaded horse, and hastened on his way, leav-
ing the Circassian chief but little pleased with his news.
Angry, ashamed, and disheartened, Sacripant mounted
272 The Story of Roland.
the palfrey of Angelica; and, taking that princess up
behind him, the two rode silently away through the
wood.
The White Knight, who, as we have learned, was
Bradamant the warrior maiden, kept steadily on her
way until she came to a road which wound round the
base of a steep mountain. Here was a very pleasant
place, overshadowed with oaks and twining vines, and
looking out upon the quiet green orchards and vine-
yards in the valley below. A fountain of water, clear
and cold, gushed out from among the rocks ; and Brada-
mant dismounted to drink. But, just as she was rais
ing her helmet, she saw a stranger sitting in the shade
close by. He seemed to be a knight, young, sad-eyed,
and melancholy ; and the shallow smile which played
about his lips betrayed his kinship to the house of
Ganelon of Mayence. His horse was tethered, not far
away, to the low-hanging branches of a beech ; and his
shield and helmet were cast carelessly upon the ground
at his feet. Curious to know the cause of the stran
ger's sadness, Bradamant kindly asked him what mis-
hap had brought those tears into his eyes, that look of
woe into his face.
" Fair sir," said the sorrowful knight, " my name is
Pinabel. I loved a maiden fairer than dream can pic
ture, gentler than words can describe. And she, I am
sure, thought well of me. One day, as we sauntered
happily along the banks of the Rhone, a strange shad-
ow crossed our path. We looked up ; and to our great
Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 273
amazement we saw a winged horse — yes, a winged
horse — circling like an eagle high in the air above us.
Round and round he soared, now rising among the
clouds, now sinking to a level with the treetops, and
seeming merely to amuse himself. Then all at once,
like a falcon let loose from the wrist, or an arrow shot
from the bow, he darted down upon us. Before I
could cry out, or hinder, he had seized the maiden in
his talons, and was bearing her away to his mountain
eyry. Vain was it to try to save her. He carried her
over the dark and barren valleys, and the rough hill-
country of the Pyrenees. There, in the midst of the
caverned mountains, is a fair and wondrous castle
planted on the top of a craggy rock, and shining in the
sunlight like a beacon fire. Men say that it was built
by a mountain sprite, and that a Moorish magician
keeps it, and that the winged horse is but a servant
who does his bidding. All round are horrid cliffs, and
giddy precipices, and dark gorges, and roaring torrents ;
nor can one find the least sign or trace of a pathway
to this robber's nest. It was thither that the winged
steed carried the hapless maidea."
**But followed you not the monster to his den?"
asked Bradamant.
" I did," answered Pinabel. " But of what avail is it
to contend with a sorcerer? Six days I rode around
the mountain, eying the prison towers, to which no
wingless creature ever climbed, and daring their wizard
lord to meet me in combat on the plain. But the rob-
274 The Story of Roland.
^ T ._- — — _- __ _ - _-._ . - - - • — • • — ••• • • • ••' •
her staid close in his mountain keep, and sallied not
forth at my call. Then there came one day into the
valley two noble knights, who, like me, had been bereft
of that which they held most dear. One was Gradasso,
the Pagan king of Sericane ; and the other looked
strangely like Roger, the pride of the Moorish court.
Boldly they rode across the plain, and halted not until
they reached the foot of the tall cliffs. Then Gradasso
blew his bugle until the whole valley rang, and the
rocks and crags seemed to tremble with the sound.
And soon afterward I saw the winged horse, with the
wizard on his back, leap from the steel-bright tower
above. Upward, at first, he sprang, and higher and
higher he soared, until he seemed a mere speck in the
sky. Then, like a well-trained falcon, he shot straight
down upon his prey. I heard a swooping, whizzing
sound in the air above me. I closed my eyes, and fell
to the earth ; for I dared not look upon so fearful a
combat. When at length all was quiet again, I raised
my eyes, and saw the wizard seated on his steed, and
holding a prisoner in either hand, calmly returning to
Ms castle home."
Bradamant listened with great interest to Pinabel's
story, and she besought him to lead her to the place
where this wonderful castle stood. She would give
battle to the wizard, she said ; she would free the pris-
oners whom he held in durance there; she would re-
store to Pinabel the maiden whom he had lost. The
sad-eyed knight readily agreed to lead her to the place,
Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 275
— it could be reached in three or four days,- -but he
felt not at all hopeful of the result.
" If you wish to risk these dangers," said he, " it
matters nothing to me. You will challenge the cun-
ning wizard; he will swoop down upon you ere you
can raise a finger; he will take you under his arm, and
carry you gently to his prison house- Yet I am ready
to do your bidding."
Then the knight mounted his steed, and the two rode
onward together. But the traitorous Pinabel had noted
the arms of Montalban emblazoned on the white shield
of Bradamant, and he began to plan in his mind how
he might betray and kill her. For many a league they
rode, over rocky hills, and through wooded valleys
until the sun went down, and darkness began to settle
around them.
"It would be well," said Pinabel, "to seek some
place of shelter from the night, and the storm which I
see is brewing. I know of a farmer's cot, just over the
ridge of this mountain, where I have often rested, and
found a hearty welcome. Let us ride to it by the near-
est way,"
So saying, he left the beaten road, and spurred his
horse up the rough side of the mountain. He hoped to
lose the White Knight in the thick wood which crowned
its top, or lead her unawares over the side of some high
precipice. But Bradamant kept close behind him, and
foiled all his wicked plans; for, to tell the truth, she
bad little faith in this sad-eyed kinsman of Ganelon
a 76 The Story of Roland.
Just after passing the crest of the mountain, the two
knights were surprised at seeing a light streaming up
as it were from the ground, On drawing nearer, they
found that it came from the bottom of a well-like cav-
ern, — a great cleft in the rock, — whose steep, smooth
sides descended sheer twenty yards and more. Pinabel
was the first to dismount and look over the edge of the
chasm.
" Ah, me 1 ' cried he as if in great surprise. " What
villany is this I see ? '
The warrior maiden, eager to know the meaning of
his words, leaped from her horse and ran to look down
into the cavern. But she saw nothing save the smooth
walls of polished rock, and a narrow door at the bottom,
through which streamed a flood of light as from a torch.
She asked Pinabel what he had seen.
"I saw," said he, "a most beautiful damsel, clad in
the garb of a princess, trying in vain to scale those slip-
pery walls. And while I looked, a fierce ruffian, who
seemed to be her jailer, seized her rudely, and dragged
her back through the narrow door into the inner cave."
"If I had any means of reaching her, I would save
ber," said Bradamant earnestly. " Ah ! what would I
not give for a rope, a ladder, some way of getting down
to the bottom of this well 1 '
She glanced around her. An elm tree, tall and
straight, grew on the brink of the cave. It would be
but an easy matter to make a ladder, she thought. So
with her sword she cut down the longest, straightest
BRADAMANT AND PINABEL.
Bradamant the Warrior Maiden. 277
branch, and shaped and trimmed it to suit her wishes.
Yet, when she thrust this rudely-made ladder into the
cave, she found that it lacked several feet of reaching
the bottom,
" Do you hold on to the upper end," said she to Pina
bel, " and I will climb down. I may at least get lovs
enough to peep through the door, and see what is going
on in the inner cave."
The treacherous fellow seemed very willing to do her
bidding ; but she had not climbed far when he suddenly
let go of the branch, and plunged the helpless Brada-
mant down to the bottom of the great well. Had not
the stout elm branch broken her fall, the warrior maiden
would have been killed outright. As it was, she lay
for some time, stunned and helpless, upon the hard
stone floor ; while the wretched Pinabel, chuckling with
delight, mounted his steed and rode away.
" Only too gladly," said he to himself, " would I hurl
Reinold and all his kin of Montalban down into the
same deep grave."
When Bradamant recovered her senses and arose,
she saw that the door which led into the inner cave
was still open ; and the bright light which she had seen
from above now shone full into her face. Without fear
or hesitation, she passed boldly through the narrow
entrance-way, and came soon into a large, well-lighted
chamber. This place seemed to be an underground
temple, roomy and square, with vaulted roof upheld by
6 u ted columns of marble and alabaster. In front o*
278 The Story of Roland.
the central altar was a large lamp, whose clear-burning
flame lighted up all the space around, and shone through
the passageway and the door into the well-like entrance
beyond. The warrior maiden, in thankfulness for her
delivery from death, and touched by the softening
influences of the place, knelt before the altar and
prayed. But, ere the prayer was finished, a secret
wicket in the wall opened silently, and a weird woman,
barefooted, and with dishevelled hair, entered the
room.
" Ah, Bradamant," said she, " you have come at last !
Long have we waited for you, yet we knew that you
would not fail us."
" Where am I ? ' asked Bradamant, rising. " And
who are you, who seem to know me so well ? '
" My name is Melissa," answered the woman. " Men
sometimes call me Melissa the witch. The temple in
which you are was built by Merlin, the great wizard
in the days of King Arthur. You have heard how he
was outwitted by the Lady of the Lake, and how he
laid himself down in a cavern cell, and could never rise
again ? This is the cavern. And in the innermost
chamoer he still lies, not dead; but sleeping; and his
voice still foretells the doom of those who come to con-
suit him. Wouldst thou see the place where lies this
ancient seer? Come with me."
Then the weird woman led Bradanmnt through ?
long, dark passageway, to the chamber in which the
>.ac,e Merlin reposed. The bed, or tomb, in which h?
Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 279
lay, was built of marble and red jasper and many pre
cious stones, and shone like a sunbeam in the darkness
And the room was paved with rich gems ; the ceil-
ing was covered with gold ; the walls were hung with
the rarest tapestry. Bradamant trembled with awe as
she gazed around upon this strange scene. She won
dered why it was that the Fates, against whose decrees
no man may struggle, had brought her hither. She
wondered if it were true that Merlin still lived, and if
he would vouchsafe to tell what fortunes were held in
store for her. She was about to speak, when a voice
solemn and grand was heard, coming as it were from
the tomb.
" Brave warrior maiden," said the voice, " may all thy
dearest wishes have fulfilment ! '
And long the wizard talked with her, urging her not
to give up the undertaking she had begun. And he
promised her that in the end she should be the most
favored of women, the mother of kings and heroes as
noble as those of ancient Rome.
Then Melissa led the warrior maiden back into the
chapel ; and the two sat down, and talked long hours
together concerning the deeds of the past and the things
which were still to betide. And the weird woman said,
•'If thou art still intent on the quest of the winged
horse and his master, and the steel-bright mountain
fortress where they dwell, it were well that thou shouldst
know their history." And then she told this story to
Bradamant.
280 The Story of Roland.
THE STORY.
In the first place, you must know that old Atlantes,
the wizard who built the fortress of which we are speak-
ing, is one of the most knowing of sorcerers, and that
he has a nephew named Roger, who is the bravest and
noblest of the Moorish princes. Years ago, when
Roger was but a child, the old wizard opened the book
of fate, and read, much to his sorrow, that the boy was
destined in early manhood to leave his home and his
kindred, and the friends who had cherished him, and
ally himself with their Christian foes. Then Atlantes
began to plan how he might fight against the Fates.
And by his magic arts he built in a day and a night
that mountain stronghold ; and he adorned it with ever}'
thing that is pleasant or beautiful, and placed in it every
thing that would amuse the young prince whose prison
home it was to be. And he brought wise men from
foreign lands to teach the boy, and minstrels from
north and south to while away the tedious hours with
music. And, as Roger grew into young manhood, the
bravest knights and the fairest ladies were enticed into
the castle, and there imprisoned to keep him company,
w His life," said the old wizard, " shall be as pleasant
and as gay as it is possible for the life of a prisoner to
be. But, whatever the Fates may say, he shall not
leave his kin, nor shall he become a Christian."
At about this time Agramant, the king of Africa,
bega "\ to think of invading France. Very bitter did he
Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 281
feel toward Charlemagne for wrongs which his people
had suffered ; very greatly did he covet the vine-clad
hills of Gascony. He called his wise men around him,
and they discussed their plans together.
"There is but one way by which you can succeed
against the French," said the oldest of his counsellors.
" You must enlist under your banner young Roger, the
Prince of Morocco. He will prove a host within him-
self ; and, without his help, you will fail."
" But how are we to get him ? ' asked Agramant.
" You know how zealously his old uncle guards him in
his steel-clad castle among the Pyrenees. No one can
go in or out of that castle ; and the wizard, with his
winged horse and his magic, is as much to be feared as
an army of Christians. Indeed, it would be easier to
conquer Charlemagne single-handed than to take Roger
from his uncle."
" To do this," said the wise man, " you must oppose
magic with magic."
" You speak in riddles," answered the king, " Explain
yourself."
"You have heard of Angelica, the fair Princess of
Cathay ? ' asked the wise man.
The king nodded.
" You have doubtless also heard that she wears a
magic ring on her finger, and that this ring, placed
between her lips, makes her invisible to the sight of
men ? "
The king nodded again.
282 The Story of Roland.
" Well, then, you must get possession of that ring."
The king flew into a great passion. " You trifle with
me ! ' he cried. " You set me a task, — yes, two of
them. I ask you how I am to outwit and overcome
Charlemagne. You answer by telling me to enlist
Prince Roger in my army, and to get possession of
Angelica's ring, either of which is harder than fight
ing all the kings in Christendom. Should I ask you
how I am to get the ring, you would answer by telling
me to do some other task equally impossible."
" Not so, great king," was the humble answer. " You
have here in your court the greatest thief in the world,
the dwarf Brunello. It is well known that you would
like to rid yourself of him, and that you would have
done so long ago if he had not had a charmed lite.
Send him to Cathay, and offer him, in case he can steal
the rnagic ring for you, the governorship of one of your
outlying provinces. If he fail, you will have good rid-
dance of him ; for he can never come back. If he
succeed, it will still be well ; for, being made governor,
he will steal from his subjects, and not from you,"
The king was pleased with the wise man's advice,
and he forthwith sent Brunello on his mission to Cathay,
He promised him, that, if he came safely back with the
ring, he should have the rich province of Tingitana for
his own. Now, the dwarf was somewhat of a magician
himself ; and he had but little trouble in reaching Al-
bracca, and stealing the ring from the finger of the
princess while she slept. How he made his way back
Br adamant the Warrior Maiden. 283
to the West it matters but little to us now. We are
only concerned in knowing that at this very moment he
is on his way to the Pyrenees with the magic ring on
his finger, intent upon trying its powers against the
wizard skill of Atlantes.
"And now," said Melissa to Bradamant, " if you
would outwit Atlantes, and overthrow the magic castle
wherein are imprisoned the bravest knights and the
fairest ladies of France, you must get possession of
Angelica's ring ere Brunello has tested its powers."
" How is that to be done ? ' asked Bradamant.
"To-morrow," answered the weird woman, " I will
lead you out of this cavern, and show you the road
which you shall take. Follow it until you reach the
seashore and a little inn, where you will meet the dwarf
Brunello. You will readily know him, for an uglier
little being never called himself a man. Make some
excuse to go with him on his way, but do not touch
him until you are in sight of the high towers of the
wizard's castle."
Much more did the gentle Melissa whisper in the
warrior maiden's ear; and all night long they sat in
that quiet cave temple, talking of the bright future, raid
the glorious possibilities which Merlin had promised to
the true and great-hearted Bradamant. And at the
earliest break of day the weird woman led her guest
through a long, dark gallery, out of the cave temple, into
\ narrow gien deep hidden between two mountains
284 The Story of Roland.
All day they travelled on foot through narrow
gorges, and by the side of roaring torrents, and beneath
frowning precipices, until at eventide they came to the
sea and a broad highway that followed the shore. Here
Melissa bade the warrior maiden a hearty godspeed,
and turned another way, intent on other duties. And
Bradamant went fearlessly onward, until, late in the
evening, she came to a little roadside inn. There she
found the dwarf Brunello, a hideous little man, hunch-
backed and misshapen, and uglier than pen can describe.
She lost no time in making his acquaintance. But
the wily thief, who supposed he was talking to one
of Charlemagne's warriors, was on his guard, and
answered her questions with many cunning falsehoods.
He told her that he was a poor laborer driven by the
ruthless Saracens from his home in Gascony ; and that
he was now on his way to Charlemagne to lend the king
what little aid he could in driving the invaders from the
land. Then he, in turn, questioned Bradarnant concern-
ing her name, her home, and her kinsfolk. But the
warrior maiden met guile with guile, and answered him
with many a feigned story ; and her eyes glanced cau
tiously toward his hand to assure herself that the ma;
ring was there.
The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 285
ADVENTURE XXIII.
THE WINGED HORSE OF THE PYRENEES
EARLY the following morning Bradamant was awak-
ened by hearing a great noise in the courtyard of the
inn. She quickly donned her armor and ran to the
window to see what was the cause of the disturbance.
The host and all his family were gazing upward as if at
some wonderful thing in the heavens. Every one about
the house seemed greatly excited, and all were talking
and shouting and gesticulating in the wildest manner
possible. Even the dwarf Brunello was on the balcony,
shading his eyes with his hand, and looking upward
with an interest too strong to be hidden.
" What is it ? ' asked Bradamant.
" A winged horse," answered the dwarf.
" A winged horse ! Where ? Ah, yes, there he is ! '
Bradamant saw the creature very plainly, sailing
serenely through the air above them, and making his
way toward the west. His wings were very broad, and,
as the rays of the rising sun fell upon them, they seemed
colored with every hue of the rainbow. Upon his back
sat a knight clad in glittering armor, and hold;ug an
286 The Story of KoUind,.
open book in his hand. And so rapid was the flight oi
the strange animal, that in a few moments he was lost
to sight among the far-off clouds and mountain tops.
" A very strange creature that is," said the host, ever
ready to amuse his guests. " It is what we call a hip-
pogriff, and I have been told that there is not such
another beast in the world. The man who rides him is
a great wizard. He reads books, and dabbles with the
metals, and gazes at the stars. His name is Atlantes j
and they say, that, on the other side of the mountains, he
has the most wondrous castle that ever was built I
have been told that it is made of steel, and that it
crowns a crag so steep and high that no creature with
out wings can reach it"
" And does the wizard live there all alone ? f asked
Bradamant.
"Ah, no!' answered the host "He has many fine
guests, and others arrive every day. The noblest men
and women of France are in attendance at his court."
" How can that be when the only road tc the castle
is through the air ? '
" Oh ! he has his own way of inviting his guests
Whenever he sees a knight more handsome or more
tioble than the common sort, he merely swoops down
upon him with his hippogriff, picks him up, and carries
him aloft to his mountain eyry. Many fair ladies arid
young damsels have been stolen from their homes, and
doomed to imprisonment in the wizard's airy palace.
And we can only guess whether they are happy or mis*
The Winged Horse of ike Pyrenees 287
erable there, for who once goes up to those shining
halls can ne'er come down again."
" How I should like to try a passage at arms with old
father Atlantes ! ' cried Bradamant " I wonder if he
would think me worth carrying up to his lofty den."
" It is very likely that he would have you there ere
you could deal one stroke with sword or lance," an-
swered the host, shaking his head.
" I have made up my mind to try the venture, at any
rate," said the maiden. "Is there any one here who
knows the way to the thief's retreat, and who will serve
me as a guide ? '
"May it please you, sir knight," spoke the dwarf
very quickly, "I myself will show you the way. I
have here a little book in which the road is set down
and the whole country described I shall only be too
glad to serve you."
Bradamant thanked him very kindly, and the two
began at once to make ready for the journey. As the
White Knight had no steed of her own, she bargained
with the host for a palfrey which he had to sell, — a
light-footed creature, well suited to the road, but ill
fitted for the combat. And, before the sun was very
high, the knight and the dwarf bade their friends at th<£
inn good-by, and set out on their dangerous venture.
Bradamant, clad in her white armor, and bearing a long
lance and the white emblazoned shield of Montalban,
rode erect and proud as any peer of the realm ; while
the dwarf, with becoming humbleness, followed at some
288 The Story of Roiana.
distance, riding upon a Icwly mule. Through a deep
valley they passed, and over rugged hills, and through
untrodden woods, until they reached the foot of the
snowy mountains. Then, with many a mishap and
many a weary turn, they climbed the rocky slopes, and
came to that place where one may look down and see
on one side Spain, on the other the fair fields of France
Then, following a narrow path, they painfully wended
their way down again, and came at last to a broad, low
plain, and, glancing upward to the craggy slopes on the
farther side of the valley, they saw the object of their
search, — the wizard's air-built castle. The bright tow-
ers of steel could be plainly seen, glinting and glisten-
ing in the sunlight, but so high that the neighboring
cliffs seemed left far below.
" Behold ! ' cried the dwarf, riding up close to the
knight, — "behold the enchanter's dwelling, the prison-
house where many ladies and cavaliers pine their days
away ! '
Bradamant knew that the time had come for her to
take the magic ring ; but she scorned to harm a crea-
ture of so base a sort as the dwarf, — weak, unarmed,
and unskilled in self-defence as he was. So, while he
gazed in rapt wonder at the high-built towers, she sud-
denly seized his hands, and slipped the precious ring
from his ringer. Then she lifted him from his mule,
and with strong cords bound him to a neighboring tree.
The poor dwarf, with tears and groans and piteous
cries, begged her to set him free. But she knew the
The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 289
cunning thief too well, and staid not to listen to his
pleas. Leisurely adown the hillside she rode, until she
reached the treeless meadow close under the castie;
then pausing, she raised her bugle to her lips, and
blew a ahriil blast, the sound of which was echoed from
cliff to cliff, and from valley to valley, until both earth
and sky seemed to ring. And, ere the sound had died
away, the winged courser, with his master on his back,
leaped from the shining towers above, and soared leis-
urely up into the mid-air. Then slowly he began to
settle toward the earth, circling down, nearer and
nearer to the fearless warrior maiden. But Bradamant
noticed that the wizard carried neither lance, nor
sword, nor other weapon, but that on his left arm he
bore a small round shield covered all over with crimson
silk, and in his right hand was the open book from
which he seemed to be always reading.
As the wizard with his winged steed charged down
upon our heroine, she aimed blow after blow with her
lance at the silk-covered shield which he held before
him * but every stroke glanced harmlessly aside. At
last, growing tired of this kind of fray, she dismounted
from her palfrey, and drew her sword. The wizard, feel
ing now that he had amused himself long enough, be-
gan to lift the silken cover from his shield. Bradamant
had learned from the weird woman Melissa what sort
of shield this was. The magic light which shone from
its polished sides had the power to blind, disarm, and
overthrow all who looked upon it ; and it was by means
290 The Story of Roland.
of this shield, and not through any strength or skill o!
his own, that the wizard won all his victories. Yet
such was the virtue of Angelica's magic ring, that it
rendered its wearer proof against all enchantments of
this kind.
With the ring tightly clasped in her left hand, and
her sword in her right, Bradamant went boldly forward
to meet her foe ; but, as she saw the shining shield laid
bare, she closed her eyes, as if overcome by its glare>
and fell to the ground. The wizard, well pleased, made
his steed alight ; and, covering the shield again with the
crimson cloth, he hung it upon the pommel of his sad
die, and dismounted. With a strong cord in his hand
he went leisurely forward to bind his prisoner. He had
captured scores of valiant knights in this way, and no
thought of any mishap had ever entered his mind. So
you may imagine his astonishment, when Bradamant,
who had only been feigning, rose quickly, and seized
him, and bound him fast with his own strong cord.
The first thought of the warrior maiden was to slay the
wicked wizard ; but when she saw that he was a very
old man, with sorrowing, wrinkled face, and snow-white
hair, she pitied his age and his grief, and would not
harm him,
"Ah, brave knight!' said the helpless old man5
" you have conquered me, and all my magic has come tc
naught. Slay me, I pray thee, for life is no longes
worth the living."
"Tell me, first," said Bradamant, "why you carry
The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 291
this cruel and unknightly warfare against your fellow-
men. Why have you built those prison towers ? '
"It was all for young Roger's sake," answered the
wizard. " He is the noblest and fairest of men, and
the only being on earth that I love. I built the castle
for him. I stored it with every comfort, and I brought
to it every pleasure that the four quarters of the globe
could afford. I have sought out the most worthy
knights and the handsomest ladies in Christendom and
in Paynimry for his companions, I have kept them in
prison, it is true ; but it is a prison more delightful than
many a palace."
" Ah, sir wizard 1 ' said Bradamant, " you should
know that a prison, however gilded and painted, is a
prison still. Liberty is the sweetest of enjoyments.
So come with me at once, and open your gates, and set
your prisoners free."
Old Atlantes, writhing and groaning in helpless dis-
tress, obeyed. He led the way to the narrow cleft and
the steep, hidden path, up which Roland, as I have re-
*ated, had ridden blindly into prison. They climbed the
rugged precipice, and stood at the golden gate of the
castle. Here they paused. From the threshold, where-
on were graven wondrous signs and many a magic rune,
the wizard lifted a broad flat stone. In a little cham-
ber underneath the sill were ranged all kinds of cruci-
bles and pots and strangely shaped lamps, wherein
burned secret fires such as oaly sorcerers know how to
kindle.
292 The Story of Roland.
" Oh, sad, sad day I " sighed the old man, groaning
and trembling in deep distress. "Sad day that sees
the end of my dearest hopes I But then it becomes
not poor mortals to struggle against the decrees of
Fate."
Then he took the magic vessels, and one by one he
burled them over the precipice into the depths below.
As the last one fell, and was shattered on the rocks, a
wondrous thing took place. The fairy castle, with its
steel-bright walls, and its tall towers, and its broad bat-
tlements, and pleasant halls, and narrow courtyard, and
golden gate, faded away into nothingness ; and in its
place was a bleak and cheerless mountain cave, through
which the cold winds whistled and shrieked, and in
which there was neither light, nor comfort, nor aught
that could give pleasure or enjoyment. And out
through the rocky cave mouth where erst had stood the
golden gate, there passed in long procession the pris-
oners who had been entrapped in the wizard's toils.
First came the knights, each clad in full armor, and rid-
ing his own war-steed ; and as they went out. they
gazed around in utter amazement, not knowing where
they were, nor remembering aught of that which had
happened to them, There were all the noblest chiefs
of Paynimry, — Roger the Moorish prince, for whose
sake all this witchery had been planned ; and Sacnpant
the king of Circassia ; and Ferrau the dark-browed
Moor, wearing no helmet ; and Gradasso of Sericane.
There, too, were Roland, and Astolpho of England, and
The Winged Horse of the Pyrenees. 293
a great host of noblemen and warriors of lesser note.
Then came the ladies and the fair young damsels, all
mounted on prancing palfreys, and in their wonder
scarcely knowing whether to rejoice at this unexpected
turn of fortune, or to look upon it as the beginning of
new and unknown evils. And last of all came Angeii
ea, the matchless Princess of Cathay, who, like the
others, had been entrapped into the wizard's prison
house. And as the sad, glad, bewildered company
wound round the rugged hill in their slow and difficult
descent to the plain, Bradamant thought that never in
the world had there been seen a nobler and more varied
array of valor and of beauty. She looked around to
speak to the old wizard ; but he had skulked away,
grieved, ashamed, and disappointed, to hide himself
from the eyes of mankind. And, when the last of that
strange procession had passed, Bradamant herself fed-
lowed them to the plain below ; and there, without
word, they parted, each choosing his own way.
294 The Sfory of Roland,.
ADVENTURE XXIV.
HOW ROLAND LOST HIS HELMET.
ROLAND did not know how long he had been con-
fined in the wizard's castle. It might have been a few
days, it might have been many months. The whole
affair was to him but a dim remembrance, a vague
and shadowy dream. When he found himself free to
go where he pleased, he turned his horse's head toward
the east, and hurried forward, hoping within a short
time to join the hosts of Charlemagne, He had not
gone far, however, when he was overtaken by two
knights, who, like himself, had just escaped from the
prison-towers of Atlantes, and were on their way back
to the scene of war. They were Sacripant the Circas-
sian king, and Ferrau the dark-browed Moor. But the
eyes of the three knights had been so blinded bv the
wizard's enchantments, that they did not know each
other.
" Who are you ? " cried Ferrau, riding furiously down
upon Roland. " Turn back, or take another road f '
Roland grew very angry at the words and the tone of
the Moor; and, turning himself about, he answered
How Roland lost his Helmet. 295
" Thou beastly fellow, were it not that thy head is bare,
I would soon teach thee who has the best right to this
road. Turn back thyself, or else ride on in peace."
" Trouble not thyself on account of my bare head,"
said Ferrau. " I am well able to take care of it, as I
frill show thee if thou move not out of my way \ r
"Friend," said Roland to Sacripant, who had just
ridden up, " I pray thee lend this fellow thy helmet I
would fain teach him something of knightly courtesy."
"Dost thou take me for a fool?' asked Sacripant.
" Whose bead would then be bare ? Lend him thine
own helmet, or hush this pother."
Then Ferrau, fairly boiling with rage, cried out,
" Fools are ye both ! As if I might not help myself to
a helmet if I wished. But I have sworn to go bare-
headed until I win the matchless casque of Roland.
No other helmet shall ever touch my head."
" I warrant," said our hero, smiling, " that, wert thou
to meet the knight of whom thou speakest, thy very
knees would quake with fear, and thou wouldst not only
forego the helmet, but wouldst gladly buy thy life with
th) other arms."
Then Ferrau began to boast that he had often before
had Roland on the hip, and that it would be mere child's
play to win the helmet from that much over-rated hero.
"Thou brutish braggart," cried Roland, no longer
able to hold himself, " know that I am he of whom thou
speakest ! Now see if thou hast the might to take the
helmet from me." And with these words he lifted the
296 The Story of Roland.
fair casque from his head, and hung it upon a branch
of a spreading beech, and at the same time he drew
the dread blade Durandal, and called upon Ferrau to
defend himself.
Long and fiercely did the two heroes fight. Theh
swords flashed hither and thither like the lightning's
play. Their shields were bruised and dinted in many a
place, and yet neither seemed to get the better of the
other. Sacripant, who was now more eager than ever
to return to his own country, stopped not to see the
issue of the combat, but rode onward, little caring
which of the knights should be the victor.
Now, it happened that the Princess Angelica had
taken the same road; and as she came near to the
scene of combat, and heard the clashing of the swords,
and the ringing of the shields, she felt curious to know
who it was that fought thus furiously. The thick un-
dergrowth of shrubs and the leafy branches of the
great beech hid her from the sight of the busy comba-
tants ; and, without any fear of being seen, she paused,
and watched the conflict with great interest. She saw
the glittering helmet hanging from the bough above
her, and she understood at once what the fighting was
about. She did not want the fierce Moor to win that
casque : he should not have it, even though he should
be the victor. So, while the two knights were blinded
by their angry strife, she quietly took the helmet down,
turned her palfrey about* and galloped away toward
Marseilles.
How Roland lost his Helmet. 297
It was long ere either of the knights noticed the loss
of the prize. Ferrau was the first to turn his eyes
toward the spot where it had hung.
"Ah, silly blockheads we are I" he cried, "to fight
thus blindly, while the knave who rode hither with us
carries the rich prize away."
When Roland saw that the casque was really gone,
he agreed with Ferrau in thinking that it had been
stolen by Sacripant ; and the two who, had just been
the bitterest of foes, now ceased their fighting, and
spurred onward in pursuit of the supposed thief. By
and by they came to a place where the road forked,
and here they were at a loss to know what to do ; for
they saw the prints of horses' hoofs going either way.
At length Roland took the road which turned to the
right, hoping to overtake the thief in the valley below,
while Ferrau kept the path which led nearer the slope
of the mountain. All day long did Roland urge his
steed forward ; but no traces did he find of the Circas-
sian chief, nor did he for many a month recover the
gleaming helmet that he so highly prized.
As Ferrau rode leisurely along the pathway which he
had chosen, he came to a pleasant grove, where a spring
of water gurgled up among rocks and flowers. He
stopped a moment to enjoy the pleasant shade ; and, as
his eyes glanced upward, he was amazed to see the
coveted helmet hanging on a branch above the spring.
With a hoarse cry of delight he sprang forward, and
seized it in his hands ; and, as he did so, he caught a
298 The Story of Roland.
glimpse of the fair princess fleeing, like a frightened
deer, through the forest. Well pleased was the fierce
Ferrau. The matchless helmet of Roland was at last
his owne What cared he now for the success of the
Pagan arms in France. He turned his horse about, and
with h;s swarthy head incased in the long-wished-fo?
Basque, he rode back leisurely tabard Spain.
The B&UU. 299
ADVENTU&E JCXF.
THE BATTLE.
HARD pressed was Charlemagne by his Pagan foes
Great, indeed, was the peril of the French. The enemy
under Marsilius and Agramant of Africa, hemmed them
in on every side : they shut them up within the city
walls, and battered at the city gates. All France was
in distress : all Christendom seemed in danger. Where
now were the heroes upon whose valor and strength the
hosts of Charlemagne were wont to rely ? The faith-
ful Roland was a helpless prisoner still in the mountain
keep of old Atlantes. Oliver was sick from a grievous
wound, and unable to leave his chamber. Ogier the
Dane had fallen into disgrace, and dared not come into
the presence of the king. Reinold of Montalban still
tarried in Britain. Of all the mighty peers of the
realm, Duke Namon alone was with the king ; yet age
had dimmed the old counsellor's eye, and unnerved his
hand, and he was no longer a hero in battle as he had
been in the earlier days.
And every day the French host looked with eager-
oess a*d hope for the coming of Roland or ReinoJd ;
3OO The Story of Roland,
•••^•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••'•••^••••••^^^^•Illll 'I' !••••• .•!!••• Ml I -II 111 I HI mi^HII. I • IIIJU«M
but no tidings were heard of them. And some went
boldly to the king, and prayed him to pardon Ogier hi«
offences, and call him to their aid. But the king would
not. And, to make the matter worse, fresh hordes of
Saracens came daily to strengthen the besiegers. Rodo*
inont, the lion-hearted king of Algiers, and Dardinel*
the gentlest born of all the Moorish heroes, crossed the
sea, and joined their forces to those of Marsilius and
Agramant; and the Saracen lines pressed closer and
still more closely upon the outposts of the French.
Just at the time when all hope seemed lost, a herald
made his way into the city, bearing glad news. Had
Roland come at last ? No ; but Reinold, with eight
thousand Scotch and English fighting-men, horse and
foot, was but a day's journey away. Hope sprang anew
in the hearts of the besieged, and their drooping spirits
rallied. The next night, by means of bridge and boats,
Remold and his little army silently crossed the river,
and early in the morning they attacked the besieging
Moors. Reinold, on his famed horse Bayard, led the
charge, leaving his brave Scots fully a bow-shot length
behind. At very sight of the well-known hero, the
Moorish lines began to waver ; the lances quivered in
the hands of the Pagan knights ; their feet trembled in
the stirrups; they were ready to retreat. Never had
warrior been seen who rode with a prouder grace, or
fought with greater skill Well worthy was Reinold to
be called a son of Mars. Many were the valiant feata
arms that he performed that day, and many were the
The Battle, 301
foes who fell before him. At last, having splintered his
good lance, he drew his sword Flamberge, and rode like
a destroying hurricane into the Pagan ranks. Right
and left the Saracens parted before him. Their arms
seemed made of brittle glass, so easily were they shat-
tered by the descending blade. Their bucklers of oak
and tanned hides, their quilted vests and twisted tur-
bans, seemed but as thinnest drapery under the light-
aing-strokes of Flamberge. And the swarm of Pagans
who flocked to the field fell in his way like the yellow
corn before the sickle of the reaper.
The battle thickened. The Moorish host for miles
around seemed aroused, and rushing to the combat
The trumpets bellowed forth their deep, sonorous battle-
call. The drums beat to arms, On every side were
heard the twang of the bow, the whiz of the sling, the
crash of lances, dire shrieks, and dismal groans, and
loud laments, and all the terrible din of battle. From
the more distant parts of the field fresh recruits came
and filled up the gaps which Reinold and his Scotchmen
had made ; and it seemed as though the number of the
foe grew greater rather than less. The meadows which
but yesterday had been so green and fair were red now
irith human blood ; and where the violets and butter-
cups had bloomed before, now heaps of slain men and
slaughtered steeds were seen.
While this fearful battle was raging outside of the
walls, Rodomont, the fierce Algerian chief, rode around
to the othtr side of the city. Single-handed he broke
302 The Story of Roland.
through the unguarded gates. From one street to an
other, like a raging lion, he roamed. On every hand he
slew, he burned : he spared no one. Charlemagne, who
was intent on aiding Reinold in front, knew nothing of
this foe who had come in from the rear. Two thou
sand Englishmen had cut their way through the Moor-
ish lines, and the gates were opened to receive and
welcome them. The king was about to order a sally to
be made ; his warriors were in line, waiting his word of
command, when suddenly a squire, all pale with dread,
and panting for breath, rushed into his presence.
" Alas, alas ! ' he cried, scarcely able to say more,
" the foe is within the walls ! Turn, look around, and
see the red flames and the curling smoke, and hear the
cries of the terror-stricken townsfolk ! '
Charlemagne waited not a moment. With his brav-
est knights he turned, and hastened to meet and drive
back this unexpected foe. But he found ruin and
desolation everywhere. The palaces were burned ; the
churches were in flames ; women and children were
hurrying to and fro, seeking places of safety. The
king, supposing that a large force of the Moors had
broken through the walls, rallied his men around him?
and made his way toward the citadel ; for he gave up
all else as lost, and thought to make a last stand in that
strongly walled fortress. But Rodomont, drunk with
blood and victory, and despising all mankind, with a
sword in one hand and a torch in the other, was already
there He had followed the terror-stricken people to
The BatiU. 303
the very gates of the castle ; and these he was shaking
and smiting, as if he would force an entrance. From
the roof above him the warders threw down every sort
of missile they could lay hold of, hoping to crush their
terrible foe. But Rodomont, fearless and unharmed,
and like a demon glittering bright in his armor, still
hewed furiously at the gate. At this moment the king
and his knights hove upon the scene. Great was their
surprise to learn that all this panic and destruction had
been the work of a single man. All together they
dashed upon the Pagan. Eight lances struck at once
against the armor of Rodomont, but all glanced off
harmless. The Algerian chief bore a charmed life,
and easier would it be to pierce an anvil with a needle
than to have smitten him with any weapon. At the
call of Charlemagne other knights rushed upon the
Pagan. They barricaded all outlets, and sought to take
him prisoner. But Rodomont walked straight through
their midst, and seemed not to think that any danger
threatened him. With long steps and slow, he made
his way toward the river; but he was hindered and
galled on every side by a mob of knights and daring
men-at-arms. Now and then he turned upon his foes,
and fought them like a lion at bay. At length he
reached the river-bank, and cast himself, all armed as
he was, into the foaming water. Across the stream,
without any seeming effort, he swam, as if borne up by
corks and wafted by the wind. He climbed upon th«
farther shore, and, without looking back at hi* baffled
foes, strode leisurely awav
304 The Story of Roland.
Meanwhile the battle outside of the walls continued
with ever-increasing fury. The carnage lulled not, nor
slackened, but wilder grew, and worse. Many times
the Moors began to waver ; and they would have given
way before the terrible onsets of Reinold and hia
Scotchmen, had they not been rallied by their gallant
young chief, King Dardinel. This chief bore a shield
upon which were red and white quarterings, the same as
those emblazoned on Roland's arms ; and very rare was
his skill in combat, and very great his valor. And
when Reinold saw that the fate of the battle depended
upon him, he cried out, " This is an evil plant, which it
were well to uproot ere it becomes too great and strong."
Then, spurring his horse toward the young chieftain, he
called out, " Poor child, whose buckler is that thou
bearest ? It is a dangerous thing for one like thee to
carry. Come, show us how thou canst defend the
chosen colors of our own chief Roland ! Doubtless
thou hast gotten them by fraud, and thou shalt lose
them by force/'
Dardinel was not at all dismayed by the threatening
tone and manners of the Montalban hero. "More
honor than dishonor shall be mine from these quarter-
ings of red and white,'* he answered. " You shall see,
that, though I am a child, I know well how to defend
that which I bear. I trust in God, and I shall not dis-
grace my father's teaching."
When he had spoken, the boy raised his sword, and
rushed manfully to the conflict But his weapon fel*
The Battle. 305
harmlessly upon Reinold's helmet ; and before he could
turn about or defend himself, that knight dealt him so
furious a blow in the breast, that he reeled in Vis saddle
and fell lifeless to the ground As the violet '\prooted
by the plough lies fading in the scorching sunsnine, or
as the poppy droops its head and in its beauty dies, so
perished this young flower of Moorish chivalry. And
with him died the hopes of all his followers.
The Saracens, dismayed and beaten, now began a
wild retreat, and had not Marsilius of Spain wisely
led them into a fortified camp which he had made ready,
some miles away, few, if any of them, would ever have
escaped from France. That night the French host
encamped upon the battlefield ; and watchfires high
and bright were built all around that bloody plain.
And the remnant of the Moors lay uneasily behind
their hastily built earthworks, and planned how they
might steal away and escape under the friendly m&ntk
306 The Story of Roland,
ADVRNTURR XXVL
MEDORO THE MOOR.
In the Moorish camp were two young knights named
Medoro and Cloridan, the bosom friends of the ill-fated
Dardinel. Cloridan, the elder, was tall and slim and
supple as the twig of hickory or of elm ; and he loved
the greenwood and the chase much better than the
clashing of arms and the horrid scenes of war. Medoro
was very fair, like a Saxon rather than a Moor ; and
his long golden hair fell in ringlets about his shoulders ;
while his jet black eyes snapped and sparkled like
diamonds set in alabaster. Never has painter pictured
an angel more beautiful than he.
On that sad night which followed the day of battle,
the two young men, with others of the Moorish host,
stood guard before the camp; and every word they
spoke was of their lost lord Dardinel, whom they be-
wailed and mourned through the earlier watches of the
aight
44 Ah, Cloridan," Medoro said, "what grief it is to me
that he whom we loved so well should lie unburied upon
the plain, the food of the raven and the wolf I Gladly
Medoro the Moor, 307
would I give up my own life to save his body from this
last, most dread disgrace."
And then the two recounted together the noble deeds
of the young chief, and talked long of his manly virtue*
and of the rare graces of his mind and heart. And at
length Medoro, carried away by his feelings, cried out,
"Cloridan, he shall not lie thus ingloriously upon the
field of battle I I will go now, and find him where he
fell, and give him a burial worthy of one so noble
hearted Do you stay here ; and, if I come not to you
again, you may say that I have died for the master
whom we loved so well"
Cloridan was amazed to find in his comrade so much
love and loyal devotion ; and he would fain have dis-
suaded him from a venture so rash and full of danger.
But Medoro was not to be moved from his purpose;
rather would he die than forego that which he had
resolved upon. So Cloridan, finding him deaf to all
entreaties, persuaded him no more, but grasped his
hand, and said, "Thou shalt not go alone, Medoro. I
will be thy companion, and share with thee the danger
and the glory. Rather would I die with thee in arms
than that thou shouldst perish in this venture, and I be
kft to grieve for thee."
Then the youthful pair stole silently away from their
post, and in the darkness of the night made their way
to Charlemagne's camp. All there was stilL The
tvatchfires had burned low ; and only an uncertain light
was shed among the tents by the few red heaps of
The Story of Roland.
coals and the flickering flame of some half-extin-
guished torches. The sentinels, exhausted with the
toil and the turmoil of the day, slept at their posts. In
their tents, and around the smouldering watchfires, the
soldiers lay asleep among their arms. About the field,
with stealthy steps, wandered the two young Moors,
eagerly seeking the place where their young master
had fallen. Many were the strange sights which met
their eyes as they carefully picked their way among the
sleeping and the dead. Here, by the side of his tent,
was the learned Alpheus, famed all the world over for
his skill in magic and astrology. He had fallen asleep
over his mystic charts and tables, while watching the
stars and vainly trying to read his own doom. Near
him lay a beastly drunkard, clasping an empty barrel in
his arms, and dreaming of vine-clad hills and rivers
flowing with wine. A little farther on sat a Greek and
a Saxon, who had spent the larger part of the night
over goblet and dice, and had at last fallen asleep in the
midst of a game. Lightly trod the two Moors among
the host of sleepers, and it is little wonder if they were
tempted to avenge their friends by sheathing their bare
blades in the bodies of their slumbering foes. By and
by they halted in sight of Charlemagne's pavilion,
where the barons and the noblest knights were tented ;
and they deemed it best to change their course, for it
was not likely that all in that warlike company were
carelessly sleeping. So they left the tents behind
them, and groped their way across the field, where the
O
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Medoro the Moor. 309
thickest of the battle had been. Here they saw, lying
wde by side, or piled in horrid heaps, the dead and the
dying, the king and his vassal, the lord and his tenant,
the rider and his horse, friends, foes, broken lances*
shields and helmets, and bows and falchions, and all
the wrack and ruin that follow in the wake of pitiless
war. And long did they seek among this dread confu
sion for the body of their loved Dardinel.
They were about giving up their search in despair,
when suddenly the moon peeped out from behind a
gloomy cloud, shedding a soft and ghostly radiance
over the sad, silent scene. In front of them the young
Moors saw the cold walls and high gray towers of the
city, standing like great spectres in the pale light.
Behind them were the white tents of their foes, in long
lines, stretching many a rood on either side. The field
of death upon which they stood seemed a thousand
times more dread and lonely than when it was hidden
beneath the cloak of darkness. Very near to them, on
a spot where the moon seemed to shine the brightest,
lay a warrior with his arms beside him. It was Dardi-
nel : they knew him at once by his shield and its quar-
tarings of white and red. Tenderly and reverently
Medoro knelt beside the body of his young lord, and
many tears he shed for the noble life so cruelly cut
short Then silently the youths lifted the king upon
their shoulders, and with careful steps hurried from the
field.
And now the dawn began to appear in the east, and
$10 The Story ojf Roland.
the clouds which had seemed so dark became flecked
with red and gold. The faithful young Moors were
still far from their own camp ; nor did they know that
their friends had stolen away during the silent night-
watches, and were now many leagues on the road t#
ward Spain. Slowly and painfully they toiled forward
with the burden on their shoulders, more fearful now
of discovery than they had been while in the camp of
their sleeping foes. Close by was a strip of thick
woodland : if they could reach it, they would be safe.
Suddenly a hundred horsemen who had been sent out
to reconnoitre dashed into view Before the young
Moors could hide themselves, they were seen and pur-
sued. The youths heard the ringing of armor and the
clatter of horses* hoofs close behind them ; yet such
was their haste that they dared not look back.
" Let us save ourselves 1 ' at length cried Cloridan.
" It were folly for two lives to be lost for the sake of
one who is already dead"
And he gently shifted his part of the burden from
his shoulders, and ran as swiftly as he could to the
friendly shelter of the grove. He doubted not but that
Medoro was following close behind. But the poor boy
would not desert his master, even to save his own life.
Without saying a word, he took the whole of the bur-
den upon his own shoulders, and slowly and painfully
toiled onward. He reached the edge of the wood.
Fiercely rode the horsemen down upon him, and thick
Sew the arrows about his head. He might yet have
M&toro the Moor. 311
saved himself, had he been willing to leave the body of
DardineL But he was sorely hindered and distressed
The place was strange to him, full of fallen trees and
clumps of underbrush; and he was soon lost in its
mazes. The horsemen, knowing the wood better than
he, were not long in surrounding him. Cloridan, in his
safe hiding-place, heard the loud cries of the pursuers,
and then the voice of the boy Medoro defying them.
It was not until then that he thought of his friend's
danger.
"Ah!' cried he, "why was I so careless thus to
think of my own safety only? — Medoro, I will save
thee, or die with thee ! '
He ran from his hiding-place back toward the more
open ground. He saw Medoro, followed closely by a
hundred rude soldiers, running hither and thither
among the trees, but all the time clinging closely to the
cherished body of young Dardinel. At last, wearied,
and in despair, the youth laid his burden down upon
the grass, and, like a wild beast at bay, stood over it
and faced his foes. And now Cloridan, eager to save
his friend, fitted the sharpest arrow to his bow, and
trom behind a leafy tree let it fly among the horse-
men. So well aimed was the shaft, that it struck a
Scotch knight fairly in the forehead, and stretched him
helpless upon the ground. The rest of the band, sur-
prised at this unlooked-for blow, turned to see from
whence it came ; and Cloridan, quickly launching a sec-
ond arrow, laid another horseman low. Fiercely, then,
31* The Story of Roland.
the leader of the soldiers dashed toward Medoro; he
seized him by his long golden curls ; he dragged him
roughly forward, and drew his sword to slay him. But
when he saw the lad's angel face upturned toward him,
he paused.
"Ah, kind knight," said Medoro, "I pray, for the
sake of the God whom thou adorest, be not so passing
cruel as to slay me ere I have buried my master. No
other favor do I ask, nor do I wish to live longer than
to see the kind earth cover his dear body."
The sweet, persuasive words of the boy would have
moved the stoniest heart. The captain listened, and
fain would have spared him and let him go ; but a
churlish fellow, rude and brutish, rode suddenly for-
ward, and smote Medoro with his lance. The captain's
heart was deeply stirred within him at sight of this
base act, and, full of sorrow and wrath, he sprang
toward the unfeeling wretch, intending to strike him
down. But he, marking his danger, gave spurs to his
steed, and fled.
When Cloridan saw Medoro fall bleeding to the
ground, he could no longer hold himself, but, springing
from his covert, he ran to meet his foes. He cast his
bow aside ; he brandished his sword above his head ;
he charged furiously among the horsemen. A dozen
weapons pierced him at once : the leaves and flowers
were tinged with his blood, and dying he fell by young
Medoro's side.
" Come, my men," cried the captain, growing heart
Medorc the Moor. 313
sick at sight of this sad scene, — " come away I Let us
have no more such work as this. It is not the part of
true knights to slay young, unoffending boys."
And the whole company turned about, and followed
their chief out of the wood and back to the camp of
Charlemagne, And there, side by side, lay the two
young Moors upon the blood-stained grass, — the one
dead, the other sadly wounded, the life-blood streaming
from his veins. And the loved prince for whom they
had risked so much and lost all, lay in his steelly armor
by them. And there Medoro would have died, had not
help come soon and unexpectedly.
It so happened that a young maiden journeyed
through the wood that day, and chance brought her
near the spot where the three Moors lay. She was
clad in the rustic garb of a peasant ; yet she was very
fair, and her noble face betrayed her kinship with noble
men. It was Angelica, the Princess of Cathay. By
some means — it matters not what — she had gotten her
magic ring again ; and now she was on her way back to
her eastern home, fearing no danger, and scorning the
thought that she had ever asked the aid of living knight.
When she saw the young Moor lying, bleeding and
smeared for, upon the ground, her heart was touched
with a feeling of pity such as she had never known
before. She knelt upon the grass beside him, and
listened while he told the story of his sad adventure.
M Be of good cheer," she said when he had finished
"I will save you."
314 The Story of Roland,
Then she called to mind the haif-forgottcn knowledge
of physic and surgery which she had learned in Cathay,
and she began to bind up his wounds. In a meadow
which she had crossed that morning she had seen a
plant of wondrous virtue, which she knew would stop
the flow of blood and ease every pain, and she resolved
to go back and get it. So, bidding Medoro wait pa-
tiently and hopefully till she came again, she hastily
retraced her way, and stopped not until she had found
and plucked up the precious weed. As she was run-
ning back again, she met a peasant riding through the
wood.
" Ah, kind sir 1 ' said she, " I pray you come with me
A gentle youth lies in the greenwood, wounded unto
death. Come and help him, and the fairies shall bring
you good luck and happiness all the days of your life."
The good swain, although loath at first, could not
resist the maid's persuasive pleading, but rode back with
her to the place where Medoro lay. They found the
youth very faint from loss of blood, and nigh, indeed,
to death's door. Quickly Angelica bruised the healing
plant between two stones, and squeezed the juice upon
the young man's wounds. Then soon Medoro began
to revive. The blood stopped flowing ; the color came
again into his cheeks ; he staggered to his feet ; he was
strong enough to sit on the peasant's horse. Yet he
would not leave the place until his lord, King Dardinel,
and his young friend Cloridan, were laid in the earth.
In a grave which the peasant scooped out beneath the
Medoro the Moor. 315
trees they laid the bodies of the two noble knights,
and covered them with turf and soft moss and the
grassy sod. And then Medoro gave himself up to his
new-found friends, and was ready to go whithersoever
they should lead him.
The countryman was moved alike by the rare beauty
of the maiden and the noble bearing of the knight ,
and he urged them to go with him to his own home, —
a pleasant farmhouse in a green and flowery valley.
And thither they went ; the wounded youth riding the
peasant's horse, while the maiden and the countryman
walked on either side. Glad was the welcome with
which the peasant's wife and children greeted them at
the cottage. The best room was set apart for Medoro's
use; and Angelica, not wishing to lay aside her humble
disguise, became as one of the family, and cheerfully
helped the good housewife in her daily round of duties.
And many years afterward, when the two lived in a
gorgeous palace, with every luxury at hand, they were
fain to remember this time as the happiest period of
their lives.
And there the princess and the noble young Mooi
lived many a week with the kind-hearted peasant folk ;
aor would Angelica leave her patient until his danger
ous wound had healed. At first she bad felt only a
strange pity for him ; but as day after day she gazed
into the depths of his flashing eyes, and listened to the
pleasant words which fell from his lips, a deeper and
far different feeling possessed her. And, when he
316 The Story of Roland.
•trong enough to walk about in the open air, the two
spent whole days together in the greenwood, listening
to the song birds, and gathering flowers and ferns, and
talking of the great world of which they knew so little
and yet so much. And sometimes, to amuse Angelica,
Medoro would carve their names upon the rocks and
trees. In divers ways, in ciphers quaintly interlaced,
he graved the words, ANGELICA, MEDORO. And, ere
the summer had fled, the princess and the knight were
wedded in the peasant's humble dwelling, and two
happy hearts beat henceforth as one.
And when at length the days began to grow shorter,
and the autumn leaves to fall, Angelica bethought her of
returning to Cathay, where she intended to share all her
honors with Medoro. They had no money wherewith
to pay their humble friends for their kindness, nor,
indeed, did the good peasants wish any reward. But,
as they were about to depart, Angelica took from her
wrist a golden armlet rich with rarest gems, and bade
her hostess keep it always in memory of them. Then
with many kind godspeeds, and many tears, the noble
couple turned away from the cottage, and took the high-
road that runs toward Spain. Together they climbed
the rugged Pyrenees, and descended into the sunny
plains beyond ; and not many weeks later they came to
Barcelona, where they made themselves known, and
where they waited for a vessel to sail a ad bear them
their distant home.
A Contest for Durandal. 317
ADVENTURE XXV1L
A CONTEST FOR DURANDAL.
ROLAND came to the scene of battle only a single
day too late. The victory, as we have seen, had been
won through Remold' s valor. The Pagan hosts, beaten
and disheartened, were flying toward Spain. France
was freed from her great peril. Roland felt mortified
and ashamed, that, while others had been fighting for
their country's honor, he had been delayed in the air*
built castle of the magician Atlantes. Yet Charle-
magne and his peers welcomed him as heartily as if he
had come in the time of need ; and a day was set apart
for glad thanksgiving, not only for the great victory
which they had gained over their foes, but also for the
safe return of the hero whom they had mourned as lost.
And it was long ere Marsilius, or Agramant, or any
other Saracen chief, dared lead his hosts again into
France,
After this, Roland did many noble deeds of arms for
the honor of France and Christendom. I cannot stop
to tell you now of his gallant feats at Rome when that
city was besieged by Laban and Lukafere, the kings of
318 The Story of Roland.
Babylon ; nor of his famous passage-at-arms with the
Pagan Sir Femmbras; nor how he fought and slew
the giant Fexragus, a monster thirty feet high, and the
terror of the Christian host ; nor how he conquered Sir
Otael of Spain in fair fight, and forced him to submit
to baptism. All these stories, and many more, you
may read in the songs and poems of the old days of
chivalry,1 While everywhere there were tyranny and
wrong-doing, Roland, with his strong arm and manly
voice, sought to defend the right and uphold justice.
The vows which he had taken upon entering knight-
hood were ever in his mind ; and he deemed that his
life could not be spent more worthily than in the ser-
vice of his country, his king, and his fellow-men.
Once on a time, as he was riding through a moun-
tainous country near the sea, he found himself belated
and overtaken by the darkness of night, while yet he
was many miles from any dwelling. As he looked
around to find some place of shelter, he was surprised
to see a light streaming from a narrow cleft in the
mountain side. Did it come from the cell of a hermit
who had hidden himself in this lonesome place in order
$o escape from the bustle and bloodshed of those cruel
times ? Or did it betray the hiding-place of robbers, —
of men whose hands were lifted against their fellow-
men, and who cared nought for knighthood's vows or
valorous deeds ? Roland did not stop long to consider.
Whatever kind of dwelling it might be from whicfe
1 See Note 15 at the end of this vok
A Contest for Durand&L 319
this light came, he was determined to enter it and de-
mand a night's lodging. In front of the entrance to
the cave was a great thicket of thorns and bristly
anderwood, — so dense that any one passing that way
in the daytime would not have noticed any break IE
the rock It was not likely that a hermit would th»m
guard and conceal the entrance to his cell,
The knight tied Brigliadoro to the branch of an ciiu^
and stealthily threaded his way through the thicket It
was not hard to find the narrow door of the cavern, for
the bright light streaming through it showed him plain-
ly the way to go. A short flight of narrow steps cut
rudely in the stone led downward into a vaulted cham-
ber, which seemed chiselled out of the solid rock. The
smoke-begrimed ceiling was very high ; and through an
opening in the centre, which served at once as window
and chimney, the twinkling stars looked down. Upon
the floor beneath this opening a bright fire burned,
casting a ruddy glow around the room, and lighting up
the doorway, and sending its rays far out into the dark-
ness beyond. Before this fire sat a damsel, very young
and very fair, clad in a garb which Roland thought
would have been better suited to a palace or a king's
court than to this dismal place. Her great blue eyes
were swollen with much weeping ; yet she was so ex-
ceedingly fair, that her very presence seemed to drive
all gloom from the cheerless place. Seated on the floor^
not far away, was an old hag, withered and gray an4
toothless, who was mumbling and scolding and cursing.
32O The Story of Roland.
as if in a terrible rage about something. Roland, see
ing that these two were the only persons in the room,
advanced, and kindly saluted them. Both dame and
damsel were greatly surprised at the sight of a knight
in armor standing thus unexpectedly before them ; but
they arose quietly, and each, in her way, welcomed him
to their cavern home. The old hag, like one who it
afraid of the day, shrank from the hero's gaze, and
cowering sought the deeper shadows of the room. But
the maiden, with hope beaming in her fair countenance,
looked up with tearful, pleading eyes, into his face. Th«
knight knew at once how matters stood in that rude
dwelling.
" Tell me," said he kindly to the maiden, " why tho&
art imprisoned in this cheerless place. Who is it that
is so void of gentleness and manly feeling as to bur^
thee in this mountain dungeon ? "
Then, with floods of tears rolling down her cheeks,
the maiden told him her sad story. She told him that
she was the only daughter of the old Saracen king of
Gallicia, and that her name was Isabella ; that she had
been secretly betrothed to Zerbino, the son of Scot
land's king; that, without the consent of her father*
she had embarked on shipboard at Bayonne, intending
to follow her lover to his own country ; and that on the
first night of the voyage a great storm had arisen, and
had driven the vessel upon the shore, where it was
wrecked among the high, pointed rocks.
" The caotain *aw well our danger,*' said she. " He
A Contest for Dnrandal. 321
lowered the galley's skiff, put me in it, and, with two
of his men, embarked among the breakers. Landward
over the raging surf we were driven ; and, what was
little short of a miracle, we safely lighted on a shelving
beach. The shore was bleak and barren. No dwelling
was in sight, nor any pathway, but only bare cHffs, and
high, wood-crowned hills. Yet the first thing that I did
was to fall upon my knees, and offer up thanks to kind
Heaven for our deliverance. But, alas ! I found that
I had been snatched from the waves, only to fall into
the hands of foes more pitiless than the sea and the
storm. A band of pirates who infest these shores,
and who had seen the wreck from the cliffs above,
rushed down upon us ere we were aware. Vainly did
the good captain and his men try to defend me. The
robbers slew them on the beach, but they harmed me
not I was a rich prize, they said, and some time I
should be sold for a high price to some wealthy Moorish
prince. And they brought me to this cave, and gave
me into the care of this old dame, who is my jailer.
And here for weary months I have been imprisoned as
in a living grave, scarce hoping ever to be free."
While yet the damsel was speaking, a company of
men came silently down the stairway, and stood in the
cave. They were rude, brutish-looking fellows, some
armed with hunting spears, and some with swords ; and
they paused in surprise at sight of the knight seated
before the fire, and eagerly listening to the maiden**
story.
322 The Story of Roland,
" Ah, my good man I r cried the leader of the band,
"thou hast come in the very nick of time. I have
long wanted a good suit of armor ; and that which thoe
wearest will certainly serve me well."
With a look of scorn upon his face, Roland turned,
and faced the robber crew. "If you win these arms/'
said he to the leader, " you shall pay a dear price fot
them."
Then, disdaining to use his sword against foes so
vile, he seized a burning brand, and hurled it fiercely
among them ; and, picking up a heavy table that stood
close by, he dealt such lusty blows about him, that those
of the robbers who were not entirely disabled were glad
to save themselves by a disgraceful flight. He waited
not to see whether they would return ; but he took the
maiden Isabella by the hand, and led her out of her
prison.
"I have heard of the Scottish chief Zerbino," said
he. " He follows now the banner of my cousin Reinold
of Montalban ; and there are but few braver knights
than he. Come with me, and we will find him."
With this he mounted Brigliadoro and lifted the maiden
to a place behind him. Then the two wended their way
through the forest. As they rode along the silent paths*
the stars moved slowly across the gray sky above them,
and the moon journeyed far to the west, and sank ir
the ocean waves ; and the red dawn began to appear in
the east And just as the sun arose they found them-
selves standing on the brow of a wooded hill, while in
A Contest far Durandal. 323
the valley below them was a small village, or cluster
of peasants' houses ; and farther away, on the brow of
another hill, was an old, half-ruined castle.
There seemed to be a great excitement in the little
tillage, if one might judge from the uproar which waj
i&ard. The dogs were barking ; the men were shout-
ing, the women scolding, the children crying ; every one
was running hither and thither, as if the world were
coming to an end. On the farther edge of the village
a small company of knights was seen slowly approach-
ing, with long pennons floating above them.
" Wait here," said Roland to his fair charge, as he
helped her to alight "I will ride forward, and see
what is going on/'
Isabella concealed herself among the thick under-
woods, while Roland gave spurs to Brigliadoro and was
soon galloping through the single street of the village.
It did not take him long to find out the cause of the
commotion which he had observed. The knights with
the pennons were the men of Count Anselm of May-
ence, and they were leading a prisoner to execution.
The people were wild with excitement, and kept shout-
ing, " Death to the traitor ! Off with him ! "
Roland rode close up to the procession ; and the
countryfolk, being unused to a knight of so noble a
mien, parted right and left before him, and allowed hia:
to advance until he was very near to the prisoner. You
may judge of his surprise when he saw that this man
was none other than Zerbino, the Scottish cavalier in
324 The Story of Roland.
quest of whom he had so lately set out. The young man
was fettered with ugly chains, and bound to the back
of a draught horse ; and he sat with drooping head and
downcast eyes, scarcely noticing the jeers and threats
of the rude rabble.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried Roland.
* What has this man done ? "
" He is a murderer," answered one of the guards.
"Count Pinabel, son of our master, Anselra of May-
ence, was found dead yesterday in the mountain glen ;
and this is the man who slew him."
" It is false ! ' said Zerbino, not raising his head.
" It is true I ' said the man. " For he came last night
to the village inn for lodging, and while he was there
the body of poor Pinabel was carried in. No sooner
had this man come near than the wounds of the slain
knight began to bleed afresh. There is no surer proof
of guilt than that"
" Ay," cried the rabble, " there is no surer proof ! *
"Untie the man !' said Roland. And he swept his
lance around him, and knocked a score of the rude
fellows prone into the dust. " Untie him, and let him
fol"
Zerbino raised his head, and turned to see his deliv-
erer. The crowd of angry churls fell back, and began
to disperse. The rude fellows were not more afraid of
the knight's long lance and glittering sword than of his
flashing eye and towering form. Within three minutes
the road was cleared: guards, peasants, and all wer*
A Contest for Durandal. 325
dying across the fields, eager to escape the fury of the
hero. Roland and Zerbino were left alone. It was
but the work of a moment to sever the cords and break
the chains with which the prisoner was bound Then,
full of thankfulness for his unexpected delivery from
death, Zerbino went back to the inn where he had
stopped, and donned the armor which had been taken
from him. He found his steed still feeding in the stable;
and, having mounted him, he rode out of the village
proudly by Roland's side. You may judge of his sur-
prise when he met the fair Isabella on the hilltop ; and
as for her — no happier maiden ever lived than she.
And the three friends left the village behind them and
turned their faces northward, intending to make their
way by the shortest route to Paris.
They had not ridden far, however, when they were
overtaken by a tali and powerful knight, clad in the
richest armor they had ever seen, and bearing a shield
on which were engraven the arms of Trojan Hector.
It was none other than Mandricardo, the Tartar chid
t© whom Fortune had given the arms which Roland
had at one time so greatly coveted. Long time had he
sought Roland, for he wished to win from him the
doughty blade Durandal. As he rode up, he scanned
the two knights with curious, searching eyes ; but most
he gazed at Roland ; for he knew by his bearing that
he was no common knight At last he spoke.
** Thou art the man I seek/' said he. " For ten days
I have followed thee. I have heard of thy deeds, and
326 The Story of Roland.
I have sought thcc long, — first to see thee, and
to prove thy might"
"And how knowe*t thou that I am the man?*
asked Roland
"By thy port and thy haughty bearing/* answered
Mandricardo. "I would know thee as a hero among
ten thousand"
" Thou, too, mayst be a valiant cavalier," said Roland ;
"for brave desire is not often lodged in weak minds.
If thou wouldst fain see me, I will lay aside my helm
that thou mayst look. Yet thou must know that a
man's heart is not always seen in his face."
He lifted his helmet, and the Tartar looked long at
his noble face.
" Thou hast gratified my first wish," then said Man-
dricardo, " The second still remains. Come on, let us
prove whether thy valor is equal to thy good looks ! "
Roland looked with surprise at the Tartar; for al-
though he examined on both sides, and even in the
pommel of his saddle, he could see about him neither
sword nor mace.
" You have no sword," said he courteously, " How
will ya>u save yourself if your lance should fail ? "
"Know thou," said the Tartar proudly, "that I am
Mandricardo, and that I bear the arms which great
Hector bore a thousand years ago. To them there is
nothing lacking save the sword Durandal, which I am
told one Roland of France carries. And I have vowed
that never shall mace or falchion be wielded by ra?
A Contest for Dur&ncUtL 327
hand until I win that doughty blade, and avenge my
father Agrican, whom that same Roland treacherously
slew."
M Not so ! ' cried Roland, growing angry. ** Tfeoe
liest ! Never slew I any man treacherously. I ate
Roland, and this blade is Durandal, the sword thou
aeekest. Win it, and thou shalt have it See, I hang
it on this tree, and he who conquers in this combat
shall have it"
So saying, he hung the sword on the limb of a sap-
ling close to the highway; and the two knights, turning
their horses, rode off the distance of a bow-shot from
each other. Then, wheeling suddenly, they plied their
spurs, and rushed together with a shock like that of an
earthquake. The lances of both were shivered into a
thousand pieces, only the staff-ends being left in their
hands. With these club-like fragments they then en-
gaged, beating each other most mercilessly over shoul-
ders and head. Soon these weapons, too, were splint-
ered, and the combatants were without arms. The}
would have fought with their fists ; but wherefore, whes
he who strikes suffers more than he who is smitten ? Ag
a last resort, they grappled with each other ; and the Tar-
tar chief strained Roland to his bosom as if he would
squeeze the breath from his body. In his earnest fury
he thoughtlessly dropped the rein of his horse's bridle,
Roland, sitting firm in his saddle, saw his opportunity,
and quickly slipped the bridle from the horse's head.
The steed, frightened, ard feeling himself free, started
328 The Story of Roland.
off with a bound : little recking whether his road were
smooth or rough, he galloped swiftly away over fields,
and through the woodland, carrying his unwilling master
with him.
Roland waited a long time for the Tartar's return, and
finally bethought him that he would follow and overtake
him. So he bade Zerbino and Isabella a heartfelt god-
speed on their way to Paris, and set out in search of his
enemy. For three days he sought him, but all in vain :
he could find no traces of either the Tartar or his
horse. On the fourth day he gave up the venture, and
turned his face once more toward Paris and the court
of Charlemagne, from which he had been long
abaent
How Roland became his own Shadow. 329
ADVENTURE XXVIIL
HOW ROLAND BECAME HIS OWN SHADOW.
IT chanced one day that Roland came to a pleasant
woodland, which was bordered on one side by a meadow
and on the other by a hoary mountain. Tall trees lifted
their heads toward the sky, seeking the sunlight, and
defying the storm ; climbing vines formed many a pleas-
ant arbor among the trunks and branches ; and cool
bowers invited the tired knight to take shelter within
them from the hot beams of the midsummer sun. A
mountain brook, whose banks were bordered with wild-
flowers of every hue, wound here and there among the
trees, singing on its way to the grassy meadow beyond ;
and the air was filled with the smell of fragrant blos-
soms and the sound of drowsily humming bees. Our
hero was weary with his long journey, and overcome
with the excessive heat For many days he had been
on the road, scarcely stopping for a night's rest, or to
partake of needed food. This grove seemed so cool and
inviting, that he determined to dismount and sit for a
while in the shade. There was a strange throbbing in
hi« head ; the blood in his veins seemed boiling hot ; his
330 The Story of Roland.
pulse beat hard and fast He had never felt so miser*
ble. He loosened his helmet, and laid it upon the
grass; he knelt down, and drank a long, refreshing
draught from the flowing brook; and then he bathed
his feverish temples in the cool liquid, and lay down
among the flowers to rest. By and by he arose, but he
felt not a whit better than before. He looked up at the
great trees which lifted their heads so high above him :
he admired their gnarled branches, and their smooth,
sturdy trunks. On one of them he noticed some strange
letters carved, and he wondered what they could mean.
He went nearer, and saw that they formed the word
" ANGELICA." He thought it strange that the name of
che Cathayan princess should be engraved in this out-
of-the-way place ; and yet she herself might have carved
it while resting here in the shade, just as he was doing.
He walked a little farther into the grove, and saw the
name again ; but this time another — "MEDORO" — was
written beneath it. Who was Medoro ? He had never
heard of such a person, but the name had a Moorish
sound about it. Farther on, the trees seemed covered
with these names written in every conceivable way,
— in letters Arabic, Roman, and German, Even the
rocks were scribbled over with chalk and charcoal, and
always with the words "Angelica, Medoro." Filled with
a nameless feeling of disgust, Roland turned away. He
mounted his good Brigliadoro, and rode forward on his
lourney.
But he did not ride far, In the valley between the
How Roland became his own Shadow. 331
mountains he saw blue smoke rising from a shepherd's
x>ttage ; he heard the bleating of sheep and lambs, the
lowing of cattle, and the glad voices of children. He
thought that this would be a pleasant place to rest until
the morrow, and he determined to stop. As he rode
into the yard, the shepherd met him, and asked him to
alight, for the sun was sinking, and night was at hand.
A boy ran forward, and led Brigliadoro to the stables,
while Roland and his kind host walked side by side into
the house. All the good folk of the cottage were eager
to serve the warrior. One took his shield, another his
helmet, a third his cuirass, and a fourth his golden spurs.
The shepherd himself, with becoming reverence, took
care of the dread blade Durandal, all sheathed in its
gemmed and golden scabbard; and the good wife
busied herself in making ready the evening meal, — a
meal such as should be worthy of so noble a guest.
As Roland, well pleased with his lodgings, looked
about him, he was surprised to sec that the walls and
rafters of the humble dwelling were scribbled over with
the same words that he had seen on the trees in the
groTe, — "ANGELICA, MEDORO." The shepherd noticed
bis wonderment, and, being a talkative fellow, was not
long in telling him the whole story He related how the
young Moor had been sadly wounded, and how he had
been nursed back to life by the fair and gentle Princess
of Cathay ; and how, at length, the handsome pair had
been married, and had gone away to their home in th«
golden East.
332 The Story of Roland.
" And if you don't believe it," said the swain, seeing
a strange, wandering look in the warrior's face, " I will
prove the truth of my story ; for we have here the fail
maiden's bracelet. She gave it to my wife as a keep
sake"
And he brought from an inner room a golden armlet
which Roland remembered as the same which he himself
had given, long time before, to the handsome maiden of
Cathay. He gazed at the pretty ornament a moment,
and then silently gave it back to his host. His eyes
seemed dazed ; and there was a strange feeling about
his brows and temples, such as he had never before
known. His hostess pressed him to eat of the food
which she placed before him, — fresh venison from the
woodland, the whitest loaves made from the farmer's
own wheat, wild honey from the wooded mountain
slopes, and all the delicacies that the good woman
knew. But he would taste nothing. Somehow, the
words, "Angelica, Medoro," rang in his ears, and
burned in letters of fire before his eyes, and so filled
his mind that he could think of nothing else.
Some men say that our hero had been deeply and
madly in love with the Princess of Cathay, and that alJ
his distress at this time was caused by his feelings of
disappointment.1 But I cannot think so ; for the fair
and heroic Alda, the sister of Oliver, had long been
betrothed to him, and waited now for him in Paris, and
prayed for his happy return. More likely it was th«
1 So says Ariosto m the Orlando Furies*.
How Roland became his own Shadow. 333
tiresome journey over dusty roads and in the broiling
sunshine, that set Roland's brain on fire, and made him
forget himself so long.
The best bed in the only spare chamber was given to
Roland, and there, through the long hours of the night,
he tossed in pain ; and whether he closed his eyes, or
gazed about the room, those two fatal words, " Angelica,
Medoro," were ever present to his sight. The morning
came ; and still the warrior lay upon his bed, but not
in pain. His mind wandered far away to his mother
the gentle Bertha, or to Alda his betrothed ; or some-
times he thought himself in the din of battle, righting
manfully for the king and sweet France ; or he dreamed
that he was again in Fairyland, among the cooling water-
falls and shady groves, listening to the songs of the birds
and the hum of the bees and the gay music of the fairies.
Day after day he lay in the quiet, darkened chamber,
carefully watched and tended by the good shepherd and
his wife. And more than once did he step down very
near to the dark door of death, but good nursing and
ceaseless care saved him. Little by little, he grew
stronger and stronger ; yet he was not the same Roland,
He did not know where he was : he fancied the humble
room wherein he lay to be a lofty chamber in some
grand castle ; and, instead of the good host and hostess,
he saw by his bedside his brother knights and ready
squires and pages in waiting. And when, one day, the
kind housewife drew aside the curtains, and allowed him
to look out over the meadows, and the fields of ripening
334 The Story of Roland.
corn, he thought himself again a barefoot boy, wander-
ing among the byways of Sutri and longing for the
time when he should be one of Charlemagne's peers.
And the country folk could not understand why it was
that, while his body grew hale and strong again, his
mind still remained clouded.
" I am not the Roland whom you think me to be,"
he said. "That Roland is dead, and I am his shadow."
One day, after he had gotten strong enough to sit up,
he amazed his host by calling for his armor.
"The king is in danger," he cried. "I must ride to
the rescue."
He donned his coat of mail, and put on his greaves
and his helmet. The shepherd's wife buckled on his
golden spurs ; and the shepherd brought him his shield
and his good sword Durandal.
" Where now is my horse Brigliadoro ? " he asked.
44 Without him, I shall fare but ill on the battlefield."
They had hoped, that, after his arms were girded on
him, he would forget this last illusion ; and they tried
to persuade him that the king was in no need of help,
But he would not listen. He must have his steed, and
he Jnust ride at once to Charlemagne. The peasant's
son led the horse, all caparisoned in steel and gold, to
trie cottage door. The noble beast was impatient for a
canter across the plains, or another encounter in the
tourney or on the battlefield ; and he neighed with
pleasure at sight of his master. The knight mounted
him, and rode down the hill-slope toward the WQoded
CO
CO
W
z
Q
CO
Q
c
How Rolana became hu own Shadow* 335
4ttCV^a0«MMHi^^B^H^H^H^M*^MMMHMMHMMMMMMMMHM»MaM^«MBWM^BMBVV«M^BMMIM««M«BB«^^
plain and the meadow. The way led him through the
grove where he had stopped and rested on that after-
noon when last he was himself. He saw the trees and
the rocks still bearing the words, "Angelica, Medoro;"
and a nameless fuiy filled his soul He fancied now
that he was in the thick of battle, and that giant foes
beset him on every side. He drew his sword, and smote
madly about him. Wherever he saw the hated names
engraved, there he hacked and cut, until not a single
letter remained. He alighted from his horse, and hewed
down the underbrush, and filled the mountain brook with
stones and turf. And after he had exhausted all his
strength he seemed to grow calmer. He stopped, and
stood a long time, as if in thought.
" I am not the Roland whom some take me to be,"
he said, speaking to himself. " I am only the shadow
of that knight, and shadows need no arms." And
then, moved by a sudden freak of madness, he threw
his sword upon the ground : he rushed from one part
of the wood to another, all the while loosening and tear-
ing off his armor. In one place he left his shield, and
in another his helmet; while farther awy he doffed,
one by one, his gauntlets and his greaves, his breast-
plate, and lastly his golden spurs. Then, with loud
cries that were echoed among the mountains, and even
carried back to the kind peasant's cottage, he strode aim-
lessly away, nobody knew whither. Well was it, that
in those dark and troublous times people were wont to
look with awe upon the madman, and regard him as one
336 The Story of Roland.
specially protected by Heaven ; for, had it been other-
wise, the sad shadow of Roland would have fared but
badly, wandering alone through strange and unfriendly
lands.
It happened, not long after this, that a knight and a
lady rode by that way. The knight was Zerbino, the
Scottish cavalier; and the lady was the fair Isabella.
As they approached the woodland, they were surprised
to find the golden spurs of Roland lying in the dust by
the roadside. A little farther on, they saw other pieces
of his armor, and lastly his shield and sword. And as
they looked about them, wondering what all this meant,
they espied the good steed Brigliadoro, calmly grazing
in the meadow, his bridle reins hanging loose from the
saddle-bow. They noticed that the trees around them
had been strangely hacked and hewed, and that the
grass and flowers had been rudely trampled down ; but
they could see no signs of bloodshed, nor of any con-
flict with arms. The longer they paused and studied
about this matter, the more puzzled they became.
While yet they stood, uncertain what to do, the shep-
herd's son came down the road, on bis way to the sheep
pasture. He stopped, and told them the whole story of
Roland's long illness, and of the strange madness which
had seized upon him.
"Alas!' said Zerbino, "our brave friend is no longer
himself. Yet, when his fury is all spent, his senses may
return to him, and he will need his good arms. We will
take care that they are not lost/'
How Roland became his own Shadow. 337
Then he carefully gathered up all the pieces of that
matchless armor, and hung them on the branches of
a pine tree by the roadside. And beneath them he
carved in the soft bark these words : "THESE ARE THB
ARMS OF ROLAND." And he knew that no true knight
who read this inscription would remove or disturb them.
When he had done all that could be done for the honor
of his noble friend, Zerbino remounted his steed ; and,
leading Brigliadoro behind them, he and the fair Isabella
went on their way.
Scarcely were the Scottish knight and his companion
well out of sight, when the sound of clattering hoofs
and ringing armor was heard far down the road ; and
the shepherd's boy, who still lingered near the pine,
admiring the richness and beauty of Roland's armor,
saw a tall knight riding fast toward the spot He was
mounted on a white steed, and was clad in a coat-of-
mail whose brightness rivalled that of the sun. On his
arm he bore a shield of great splendor, and his crested
helmet glistened with many a jewel. Yet he wore no
sword at his side ; and his lance, which was new, seemed
a very inferior one. This knight was Mandricardo the
Tartar chief. When he saw Roland's arms hanging
upon the pine, he halted, and drew near to read the
inscription. Twice he read it ; and then, to make sure
that there was no mistake, he scanned with great care
every piece and part of the armor, but looked most at
the sword Durandal.
« Ha!" cried he in great delight "this is indeed the
blade of Troian Hector.1*
The Story of Roland.
He drew it from its scabbard, and looked with pleased
eyes upon its fire edge, and read the quaint inscription
on its side. He admired its jewelled hilt, and tested its
temper by bending its blade into a perfect circle, and by
hewing the trees and rocks around him. Then he turned
suddenly toward the trembling boy.
" How came this armor here ? " he asked in tones of
thunder.
The boy told him the story of Roland's madness, and
how he had thrown his armor away and run roaring
into the forest ; and how Zerbi.no had picked up the
pieces and hung them on the pine.
" I understand it all," said the Tartar "The felloe
is not mad : he is only feigning. He has left his
armor here only because he knew that he was not strong
enough to keep the sword Durandal. He is afraid to
make trial of arms with me again, and he has taken this
plan to present the sword to its rightful owner. I shall
take it, but small thanks shall I render to him."
Then he unbuckled the scabbard and the jewelled
belt, and fastened them to his own armor. After again
glancing at the shining edge and the richly carved sides
of Durandal, he quietly returned it to its sheath. " My
long quest," he said, " has not been in vain. With
Hector's arms complete, who now can contend with Man-
dricardo ? " And, striking spurs into his horse's flanks,
he turned and galloped back in the same direction
whence he had come.
In the mean while whither wandered the shadow of
How Roland became his own Shadow. 339
,he mighty Roland ? Aimlessly, as one walking in his
sleep, he roamed through the forests, and over fields and
desert wastes. At night he slept in the open air, with
no shelter but the blue vault of heaven. His only food
was the wild fruits of the forest, — nuts and berries, —
and, when these failed, the bark of trees. He shunned
the dwellings and faces of men, and seemed to have
forgotten his own manhood. A thousand times was his
life in peril, and a thousand times did some mysterious
power shield and save him. Sometimes, in his lonely
wanderings, he encountered wolves and bears and other
fierce beasts of the wood; but they harmed him not,
for they knew that he was but the shadow of a man.
Sometimes he was endangered by storms and floods,
but the good fairies who guard the lives of heroes led
him safely through them. And he wandered in the
darkness of night among the mountain crags, and on
the edge of steep cliffs, and amid pitfalls and bottom-
less gorges ; but an unseen Power guided his footsteps,
and no harm befell him. Then he went southward, and
climbed the Pyrenees, and crossed over into the country
of the Spanish Moors. And there a strange adventure
happened to him.
Rodornont, the warrior king of Algiers, of whom I
have elsewhere told you, had withdrawn into Spain,
breathing words of bitterness and hate to all mankind.
He had done many very wicked deeds and slain many
innocent and hapless folk, and he was ever haunted by
the remembrance of his wrong doings ; and so he not
340 The Story of Roland.
only hated others, but himself also, and sought some
means of escaping from his gloomy, guilty thought!.
So he caused to be built in a narrow mountain pass,
a tall tower of solid mason work, in the centre of which
he placed a little chapel and the tomb of some of his
most noble victims. On three sides of the tower there
ran a mountain stream, swift and deep, the water as
cold as the ice-cliffs from which it was fed. Across
this stream a wooden bridge was built, scarce two yards
wide, and guarded by neither rail nor banister. Upon
the tower a sentinel stood, to give notice when any
strange knight should approach the bridge. Rodomont
himself sat in a narrow chamber, like a giant in his
cave, ready to ride out and meet any new-comer — not
with warm words of welcome, but with couched lance
and hoarse cries of defiance; for he had vowed that
he would not rest until he should have the arms of a
thousand knights wherewith to deck the strange tomb
that he had built. And he obliged every one who came
that way, either to fight him on the bridge, or to give up
his arms to him as a trophy. From time to time, many
knights had fallen into his trap. Some, from mere
bravado and love of adventure, had come thither on
purpose to meet him in combat on the bridge ; but the
greater number of his victims were innocent travellers,
who had been belated in the mountains, and had ven
tured to seek shelter in his inhospitable tower. Some
had been, at the first onset, knocked off the bridge,
and drowned in the raging torrent below : others had
How Roland became his own Shadow. 341
been taken captive by the Algerian, their arms hung up
as trophies, and they themselves thrown into a dun-
geon.
One day the sentinel called out, as usual, to his mas-
ter, that some one was approaching the bridge. Rodo-
mont quickly mounted his war steed, and, with lance
in rest, galloped out to meet the intruder. But, when
he saw what kind of man it was who stood on the
other end of the bridge, he paused. Who would have
dreamed that it was Roland ? His clothing was mere
tatters and rags ; his feet were bare ; his long hair fell
in tangled masses upon his shoulders. He glanced
uneasily at the raging waters beneath him, and then at
the high tower beyond ; then his eyes rested upon the
mailed warrior who confronted him at the other end of
the bridge, and some of the old fire which had so often
amazed his foes in battle seemed to flash from beneath
his shaggy brows.
" Go back ! " cried Rodomont " Keep off the bridge 1
It was not built for such as thou."
Roland heard the words, and dimly understood their
meaning. He was not wont to obey commands, nor
could he ever brook an insult. Instead of doing as the
Algerian bade him, he walked boldly upon the bridge,
The angry Rodomont at once dismounted, threw his
lance to the ground, and went forward on foot to meet
him.
"Turn back, and save thyself!" he cried. "Thou
art not worthy to be touched with lance or sword ; but,
342 The Story of Roland.
if thou come another step, I will throw thee into th«
torrent below us."
Roland said not a word, but strode fiercely onward
The two met at the middle of the bridge. They grap-
pled each other. But the struggle was a short one.
Roland lifted the Algerian giant in his arms as if foe
had been a child, and held him dangling over the side
of the bridge ; then, with all his strength, he flung
him down into the roaring waters below. But the mad-
man had not wit enough to*free himself altogether from
the grasp of his enemy ; and losing his balance, he, too,
fell into the stream. The waves dashed high about
them ; but the water was deep, and both escaped being
dashed upon the rocks. Roland swam at once to Ine
shore, and climbed out of the gorge, and went on hig
way, aimlessly and thoughtlessly as before, toward the
south. And Rodomont, after being drifted far down
the stream, was cast upon a sand bank, whence, with
the greatest hardship, he at length succeeded in reach-
ing the shore.
It so happened, that while Roland and the Algerian
chief were struggling on the bridge, a maiden of
France, named Flordelis, was passing by. She had
been brought up at Charlemagne's court, and had
known Roland all her life. So, when she saw him in
his pitiable plight, wrestling with the fierce Rodomont,
she knew, notwithstanding his rags and his unkempt
hair, that he was none other than the hero whom all
Christendom mourned as dead. She watched the issue
THE BRIDGE OF RODOMONT.
How Roland became his own Shadow. 343
•f the fight with the greatest anxiety ; and when he
had fallen into the stream, and clambered to the shore
again, she tried to approach him and speak with him.
But he fled so fast through the mountain pass, that he
far outstripped the palfrey which she rode, and WM
soon out of sight For three days she sought him
among the mountains and the valleys ; but all that she
could hear or learn of him was that some Moorish
peasants had seen him, making his way with long and
hasty strides toward the south. And so she gave up
the search, and rode back to France, to tell Charle-
magne and his peers, that Roland, the noblest warriof
of them all, was still alive.
344 The Story of Roland.
ADVENTURE XXIX.
A FLIGHT TO THE LAND OF PRESTER JOHN.
KING CHARLEMAGNE sat in his council- hall, and the
noblest peers of the realm stood before him.
"Who now, for the love of our dear nephew," said
he, "will seek for him, and bring him back, that we
may see him happily restored to his right mind ? "
And Duke Namon answered, " My lord, such wonder
was never known, that a madman should recover his
senses. And, however much we have loved him, the
Roland whom we once knew is now no more. Only a
shadow remains where there was a man before."
And Reinold of Montalban said, "There are other
knights in your service as loyal, as brave, and as true
as ever our cousin Roland was. Trust them to uphold
your power, and defend your kingdom."
And Ganelon, the old traitor, smiled, and said, "Me-
thinks that this Roland is now well out of our way,
and that we shall nevermore hear it said, * Behold the
king's nephew, — the knight without fear and without
reproach 1 ' "
But Oliver said, " My lord, I will follow my brothc?
A Flight to the Land of Prester John. 345
to the ends of the earth, rather than not find him. I
will bring him back to France, to his home and his
kindred and those who love him, that through their
care and kindness he may be healed,"
And Astolpho, the poet knight, said, " I also will g*
in search of the lost hero ; for although I have neithei
the strength nor the skill of a warrior, yet who knows
but that my fancy in its highest flights may discover
the lost senses of Roland, and bring them back to their
owner ? '
Then Oliver and Astolpho mounted their steeds and
rode away ; and they pledged themselves that they would
never come back to France, nor undertake any other
adventure, until they should find Roland, and see him
whole again in mind and worthy to be called the peer-
less knight
Now, it chanced that Astolpho owned a wonderful
winged horse, — the same creature that had once be-
longed to Atlantes, the Moorish wizard. Astolpho had
long kept this steed, with care and secrecy, in his own
castle among the mountain peaks, where the wild eagles
•oared, and the air was fresh and pure, and the busy hum
of the laboring world was seldom heard. Sometimes,
merely to amuse himself, the knight had mounted his
winged courser and taken short flights into fairyland,
or soared aloft toward the sun. And he had often
thought, that when Charlemagne's wars were over, and
he was no longer needed either at court or in the field,
he would take a longer flight and stop not until he had
346 The Story of Rolatid.
reached the farthest boundaries of the earth. So, now,
he hastened back to his mountain castle, resolved to
make use of the winged steed in his search for the lost
bero.
At Astolpho's command the wondrous horse was lecl
out of the marble halls, where he had been stabled, and
accoutred for a flight longer than any he had ever yet
taken. It was early morning. The sun was rising drip-
ping from the waters of the great midland sea. The
crags and peaks shone like burnished silver against
the dark-blue sky. The crimson clouds turned golden,
and then melted away into nothingness. The moun-
tain eagles flew down from their rock-built eyries, and
screamed around the hero and his steed, and then soared
high toward heaven, as if daring him to a loftier flight.
Astolpho vaulted into the saddle. The noble steed
spread his wings, and leaped into the air. Upward and
still upward he soared, until the green fields of France,
and the rugged mountains and the snow-crowned peaks
dwindled almost out of sight. The screaming eagles
were left tar behind, the great sun seemed not much
higher. The whole earth was transformed into a scene
of beauty such as the knight had seldom dreamed of.
Swset France lay directly beneath him, spread out like
& map, its rivers and mountains and forests and fields
dimly outlined in the hazy distance. To his right was
fair Spain, bounded on three sides by the sea, and on
the fourth by the great wall of the Pyrenees. In front
of him was the midland sea, stretching away and away.
A Flight to the Land of Pr ester John. 347
as far as the eye could reach, until its shining waters
seemed hidden behind the sun. And there he saw vine-
clad Italy basking in the morning light ; and farther away
lay the isles of Greece, where the gods in the golden
time taught men the sweet secrets of music and song.
And the winged steed sailed onward toward the rising
sun, faster than falcon or swiftest bird that flies. Over
the midland sea he flew, and over many strange coun-
tries, and amid many beautiful scenes. He came to the
land where grow the date and the palm ; he soared above
the shaggy tops of the Atlas Mountains, and the Great
Desert, which lies sultry and bare beyond ; he winged
his way over Nubia and the land of the Pyramids and
the Nile. Yet Astolpho allowed not his steed to stop.
He had heard of another land still farther, where he
hoped to learn tidings of the sad-minded Roland. From
Egypt, his course now lay southward : he followed the
great River Nile even to its mysterious head-spring,
and over the boundless regions of Ethiopia he directed
his flight He came at length to the wondrous realm
ruled by the mighty Prester John, and there his steed
alighted.
The land in which Astolpho now found himself
seemed to be a very paradise of delights. It was gov-
erned by an ancient Christian prince, whose birth and
lineage were unknown, and whose dominion stretched
eastward to India, and southward to the great sea. IB
that land every man was a hero, — not one who wins a
name and fame through bloodshed or on the battlefield,
The Story of Roland.
but one whose heart is free from guile, whose brain
is clear, whose every deed is noble. In that land there
were temples and palaces and cities surpassing in riches
and beauty any thing that Astolpho had ever before seen
There every kind of gem-stone was found, • — emeralds,
sapphires, carbuncles, onyxes, and beryls ; and gold
was more plentiful than iron. There, too, every strange
and useful animal lived. It was the home of the ele-
phant, the camel, the white and red lion, the white
bear, the wild horse, the wild ox. There, also, roamed
those wondrous creatures of which we read in the old
myth-stories of Greece, such as centaurs and fauns and
satyrs and pygmies and strange chimeras. And there
dwelt the phoenix, that solitary bird, which, after living
a thousand years, burns itself on its own funeral pile,
and afterward rises with renewed youth from the ashes.1
Near the place where Astolpho first alighted there
was a garden, and in the garden was a fountain. On
either side of the fountain sat two saintly men, who
were dressed in long white robes, and whose hair and
beard were whiter than the drifted snow. The*e men,
as the knight approached, arose and saluted him,
44 Art thou a Christian ? " asked one.
"I am," answered Astolpho, making the sign of the
eross.
"Wouldst thou be healed of all thine infirmities,
whether of body or of mind ? " asked the other.
* Nothing do I desire more greatly," was the
1 See Note 16, at the end of this rcttum.
A Flight to the Land of Prester John. 349
Standing within the fountain was a pure white stone,
shaped like a mussel shell, and covered by a few inches
of water,
44 If what thou sayest is true," said the elder, who had
first spoken, "step now into this mussel shell."
Astolpho did as he was bidden, and the water began
of its own accord to rise about him. Three times it
lifted itself and gushed over his head ; and then the
aged men bade him step out of the fountain. As he
did so, he felt as if the balmiest days of his youth had
returned, and that he should never again be oppressed
with weariness or pain.
"Go thou," said the elders, "and may no evil thing
betide thee ! "
Then Astolpho went straight to the palace wherein
dwelt the king. The walls which stood around this pal-
ace were of the purest white marble. The drawbridge
was of ivory, and the chain and bolts were of gold.
The gate was a wondrous piece of workmanship,
wrought of precious metals and costly stones ; and
above it was placed the horn of a horned snake, so that
nothing unclean could pass through. The inner gates
were of ebony, inlaid with gold. At each end of the
palace was a high tower ; and on each of these a car-
buncle and an apple of gold were placed ; and by day
the golden apple shed a soft radiance over the palace
and all the country around, while at night the carbuncle
shone as brightly as the sun at noon. The wide court
yard was floored with onyx, — a stone which gives
35O The Story of Roland.
strength and courage to the feeble-hearted. The archi-
traves, the joists, the ceilings of the palace, were of
the mystic Sethym wood : the roof was of ebony, and
so built that fire could never touch it Heavy curtains,
and carpets of every hue and texture, added comfort to
riches. In wall and roof and pavement were counties*
pearls and purest gems. And in the great assembly
hall was a wondrous mirror, reached by five and twenty
steps of porphyry and serpentine, in which the king
could see at a glance every thing that was happening
in every corner of his kingdom.
No man knew how long this country had been ruled
by Fresterjohn; for, in a land so blessed with every
comfort and every luxury, the years were all golden,
and men noticed not the flight of time. The great
Prester John kindly welcomed Astolpho to his court,
and ordered that the best guestroom in the palace
should be made ready for his use. But the knight was
surprised to see, that, although the king was surrounded
with every thing that could add to one's happiness,
there was an air of sadness on his face, as if he were
liarassed by some fearful evil which he could not escape
It so happened that the day was a great feast day,
when all the earls and noblemen in the kingdom were
bidden to court, and a rich banquet was to be served
in the hall. And Astolpho was invited to sit at table
with the rest
" I hope, indeed, that they will not come to-day," tha
king was overheard saying *o one of his courtiers,
A Flight to the Land of Pr ester- John. 351
And the knight wondered who it could be whose com-
pany was so undesirable.
At the appointed hour the guests were led into tkc
banquet chamber, There the ceilings were very high
and vaulted, the windows were large, and the doors
were broad. The floor was waxed and polished until it
shone like a mirror. The tables were of ebony, inlaid
with amethyst and gold, and supported upon legs of
ivory. Astolpho was seated on a raised platform at
the right hand of the king ; and the noblest men of the
realm — dukes, earls, archbishops, and bishops — sat
near him. While the attendants were placing the food
before them, the king, pale and trembling, as if fearing
some great danger, told Astolpho the story of his sad
misery.
" You would think," said he, " that a man living in
the midst of all these delights would be supremely
happy. And yet I am the most miserable of earth's
creatures. I will tell you why. Far to the south there
is a beautiful mountain, the like of which is found in no
other land. On that mountain, it is said, there is ever-
lasting spring ; and there old age is unknown, and death
never comes. Long was it my wish to discover that
earthly paradise, and long did I aspire to add it to the
kingdoms of my realm. At last, in an evil hour, I mar-
shalled my hosts, and with a noble array of knights and
lord* I marched across the southern desert, determined
to carry my banners to the very summit of that famoui
mountain. But when we reached it, sad was our
35* The Story of Roland.
appointment The white cliffs rose up before us, like the
walls of a great city ; and, when we tried to scale them,
the rocks rolled down upon our heads ; the dark gorges
opened and swallowed up my warriors ; fire and smoke
belched forth from the peaks ; and rivers of melted rock
poured down upon us. And then I heard a voice saying,
1 Think not, vain man, to pry into the secret things of
the Most High. Go back into thine own country, and
be thankful that thy life is spared/ Then I turned, and
fled with all speed from that forbidden ground. And, of
all the mighty host that had gone with me thither, not
more than a tenth returned with me to this land. And
the Harpies, who since the days of Jason and the Argo-
nauts had been penned up in the cave of the Winds,
were freed from their prison, and sent to harass me
every day of my life. And now, like Phineus of old,
I am miserable in the midst of delights, I am tormented
with hunger while all around me is plenty ; for no sooner
is my table ready, than those loathsome creatures swoop
down, and snatch the food from my plate, and leave me
naught to satisfy my hunger. It is thus that Heaven
punishes him who would lay hands upon forbidden
things."
The king had scarcely finished speaking, when Astoi-
pho heard a strange noise above them, like the whirring
of many wings in the upper air. The old king covered
his face with his hands, and cried out, "They comet
there is no ridding ourselves of them " And many of
the guests arose and fled from the hak.
THE HARPIES.
A Flight to the Land of Prester John. 353
Then, through doors and windows, the Harpies came
flying in. Seven in number were they, — pale-faced,
blear-eyed, with long crooked talons, and snake-like tails
knotted in many a fold. Down upon the feast table they
swooped, and they stopped not their greedy onslaught
until every morsel of food was snatched from the board.
Astolpho drew his sword and struck manfully about
him ; but as well might he have smitten the wind, for
the sharpest blade could not cut through the feathery
armor of those loathsome fowls.
"Ah, me!" cried the king, "is there no escape?
Must I endure this torment forever?1
Then Astolpho bethought him of a horn which he
carried at his girdle. The weird woman Melissa had
given it to him long before, and had said to him, " When-
ever your sword fails you, blow this horn." So, after
the king and all who were in the hall had filled their
ears with wax, he lifted it to his lips and blew such a
bugle-blast as had never before been heard in the land
of Prester John. The palace itself shook from turret
to foundation stone ; the leaves of the trees quivered as
in a storm ; the rocks rolled down the mountain-side,
The Harpies, more affrighted than when, in the olden
time, they had been chased by the sons of old Boreas,
flew in wild dismay from the hall. Astolpho quickly
mounted his winged charger, and followed them, blow-
ing peal after peal upon his wondrous horn. Southward
the creatures flew, across the great sandy desert ; nor
did they slacken their flight until they reached the
354 F&e Story of Roland,
mountain whereon the earthly paradise was said to be
Into a dark and narrow cavern in the mountain's side
they flew, — the prison house into which the sons of
Boreas had driven them long before. And Astolpho,
with trees and stones, and whatsoever else would serve
as a wall or hedge, wedged up the cavern door ; so that
never again shall those loathsome creatures visit the air
to torment mankind with their horrid presence.
And the poets tell of many other wondrous deeds
that Astolpho did in the land of Prester John, — how he
visited the earthly paradise, and talked there with the
patriarchs of old ; how he flew to the moon's orb, and
was shown the place where all things are stored that
have been lost on earth ; how he found there the lost
senses of the unhappy Roland, and brought them in a
phial back to the earth ; how he visited the place where
the Fates spin the thread of life, and weave the woof
of doom for every creature ; and how he healed the sick,
and restored sight to the blind. But, whether these
stories be true or false, I will not stop to repeat them to
you. Let us hasten to find the now long-lost Roland.
When Astolpho haa learned from the Fates the
whereabouts of Roland, and the manner in which that
knight should be made himself again, he went into the
presence of Prester John, and asked a boon of that king.
"You shall have whatsoever you wish," said the
grateful monarch.
And Astolpho asked that a band of warriors should
be allowed to go with him across the desert, to invade
A Flight to the Land of Pr ester John. 355
Algeria and the land of the Moors, and thus lend aid
to his liege-lord Charlemagne. The king was well
pleased to grant this request. He sent forth his heralds
to bid all the bravest warriors of his realm to come and
join the standard of Astolpho. And there came from
every mountain stronghold and from every countryside,
troops of knights and armed men, equipped and ready
for the long march. Some came on the backs of ele-
phants, some on camels ; but the greater number were
on foot, for there were no trained horses in that country.
But, when they learned that they were expected to
march across the Great Desert, they shook their heads,
and hesitated.
" We shall never live to cross those terrible sands,"
said some : " for the South Wind will come upon us
like the breath of a furnace, and will scorch the skin of
our bodies, and parch our tongues with thirst ; and
then the whirlwind will take up the burning sand in its
arms, and hurl it down upon us, and bury us alive."
But others said, " Cannot he who has done such
wonders in our midst control even the South Wind ?
We vtll trust him."
On the evening previous to the day which had been
set for the march, Astolpho secretly mounted his
winged courser, and flew away toward the south. On
and on he flew, until he came to the land where dwell
the summer's heat and the fierce fire-forces. There, in
a cave, the South Wind has her home. Every day, at
£arly morn, she comes out of her dwelling, and roams
35$ The Story of Roland.
over the earth, kissing the buds and blossoms, and caus-
ing them to open to the sun ; rippling the waters of the
lake, and rustling among the canebrakes and the corn ;
melting the snow and the ice on the mountain tops, and
laughing with the rivulet which pours its waters over
the rocky ledge ; unlocking the frozen rivers, and send-
ing great icebergs floating out to sea; speeding the.
heavily laden ships on their homeward voyage ; stirring
the waves into fury; and feeding the death-dealing
whirlwinds which sweep over the desert and the sea,
Oh, a kind blessing, as well as a fearful curse, is the
South Wind ! When Astolpho came to her dwelling,
she had retired to rest. Not a leaf was stirring on the
trees, not a ripple could be seen on the lake. All na-
ture seemed asleep. Even in the cavern of the South
Wind no sound was heard, save that of her heavy
breathings as she lay reposing in her golden chamber.
A-stolpho hearkened a moment, and then carefully
spread a magic net across the cavern's mouth ; so that
when the South Wind should awaken from her slumber,
and should step forth from her dwelling, ready dight
for her wondrous journey over the world, she should
be caught and held fast in the meshes. Then he turned
the head of his winged courser, and was soon safely
back in the palace of Prester John.
At sunrise the dreaded march across the desert was
commenced. And the warriors who followed Astolpho
wondered what had become of the South Wind, and why
no sand storms overtook them ; for the only breeze that
A Flight to the Land of Prester John. 357
met them was the gentle, cooling West Wind, which
cheered and strengthened them during their long jour-
ney. And at last the gray peaks of the Atlas Moun-
tains, and the tall palm trees of Algeria, came in sight,
and their perilous march was at an end. Then the
South Wind, who had at last rid herself of the trouble-
some net, came tripping across the desert after them.
She climbed the mountains behind them, and played
among the treetops in the valleys, and whistled glee-
fully in the glens ; but she had no power to do them any
harm.
In the old poems, you may read wonderful stories
of the manner in which Astolpho supplied his foot-
soldiers with steeds by turning stones into horses ; of
how he routed Agramant and the other Saracen chiefs
in battle ; of how Charlemagne, hearing of his exploits,
crossed the sea, and laid siege to Africa ; and of many
wondrous feats of arms performed by the Christian
knights. Let us return to the pitiable fortunes of our
hero.
Wandering aimlessly from place to place, as if drawn
by some unseen hand, Roland advanced each day
farther and farther south. At length he came to a
little seaport town. The Straits lay before him, and
beyond them was Africa. He was possessed with a
mad wish to go onward, forever southward ; and he felt
that neither mountains nor seas should hinder him,
A ship had just left the shore, with a party of Moorish
soldiers on board. He rushed to the water's edge, call
358 The Story of Roland.
ing to the sailors to come back, and take him into the
vessel. But they, seeing his ragged clothing, and his
wild, furious gestures, guessed rightly that he was some
poor maniac, and paid not any attention to his cries.
When Roland found that the vessel would neither turn
back nor wait for him, he leaped madly into the sea, as
if determined to swim across. Long and manfully did
he buffet the waves, now rising high on the top of a
swell, and now sinking deep into the trough of the sea.
Both the land and the ship were out of sight ; but still
he struggled onward, knowing only that his life de-
pended upon his keeping his head above the water.
Yet he certainly would have been drowned, had not
another vessel hove that way. The valiant swimmer
was taken on board and carried across the Straits : for
the Moorish knights who were in the ship pitied his
forlorn case ; and, when they reached their own shores,
they allowed him to wander whithersoever he would
It happened at this time, that the Christian hosts,
with Charlemagne and Astolpho, were encamped not far
from the sea, waiting for ships and a fair wind to bear
them back to France. One day a strange man, ragged
and tanned, came suddenly into the camp. He turned
not aside for any thing that stood in his way. He
hurled the warriors right and left from his path; he
overturned the tents; he frightened the horses; he
threw every thing into a panic. Astolpho and the
knights who were with him seized their weapons, and
ran hastily out to see what was going on. You may
A Flight to the Land of Prester John. 359
judge of their wonder and delight when they found
that this strange madman was their old. friend and
somrade, Roland. By Astolpho's orders, they closed
around him, and seized him from behind. Fiercely he
struggled ; and ill would his assailants have fared, had
not their armor protected them from his mad blows,
At length he was thrown to the ground and bound
hand and foot. Then the good Astolpho took the pre-
cious phial of sense which he had carried so long and
so carefully, and held it beneath the madman's nose.
A great change came over Roland. His unsettled
mind at once regained its firmness, and his understand
ing became as strong and as clear as it had been of
yore. He gazed about him, like one who wakes from a
dream and finds himself in a strange place. He saw
Astolpho and Oliver and Ogier standing over hirn, and
he wondered why it was that he lay bound and unarmed
upon the beach. Then the wild, vacant look passed
from his face, and he seemed as calm and as composed
as he had been in his happiest days. His friends knew
that his madness had left him. They quickly unbound
hirn and raised him to his feet They led him to Astol-
pho's tent, and clothed him in raiment becoming the
noblest of knights, and told him the strange story of
his madness. And the next day a feast and a tourna-
ment were held in his honor, and the good Archbishop
Turpin offered a public thanksgiving for the happy
return of the wanderer. And many stories are told
erf Roland's prowess while yet the French army was
360 The Story of Roland.
delayed in Africa, — how, single-handed, he defeated
three kings in a deadly passage at arms, and by so
doing saved the life of his brother Oliver ; how he re-
gained by force the matchless helmet which Ferrau had
carried away ; how he won also for himself the sword
Durandal, which Mandricardo the Tartar had stolen;
and how, in every case, he dealt wisely and uprightly,
and never sought undue advantage over his foes.
Haw the Peers returned to France. 361
ADVENTURE XXX.
HOW THE PEERS RETURNED TO FRANCE.
WHEN Charlemagne and his host embarked for
France, the sky was fair and the sea was calm. But
soon a storm arose. The waves ran mountain-high, the
ships were at the mercy of the winds. The king and
his peers sat together in the same vessel ; and the
heroes who had faced unflinching the dangers of a
hundred fierce battles, now felt their hearts sinking
with fear.
" I know well the art of the tourney and the battle,"
cried Roland, the peerless chief ; " but what avails that
art here in this wilderness of waves ? "
And Ogier the Dane, said, " I know how to wield the
sword, and how to touch the harp and bring forth sweet
melody ; but such knowledge is of little use to quell the
fury of these winds."
Then Oliver, the look of gladness all faded from his
eyes, drew his sword from its scabbard, and, gazing
tenderly at its flashing edge, said, " No fear have I for
myself, but I grieve that Haultclear shall find so in-
glorious a grave."
362 Tke Story of Roiana*
" If I only knew a way to save myself," said Ganelon,
— but he said it very low, — " little would I reck what
evil fortune befell the rest of you."
The good Archbishop Turpin sighed deeply, and said,
"We are the warriors of Heaven's kingdom. Come
thou on the waves, sweet Saviour, and deign to deliver
as from peril."
Said Sir Richard of Normandy, "Wait for me, ye
demons ! Long and well have I served you, and soon
trill I be with you."
"I have given wise counsel to many," gravely re-
marked Duke Namon ; " but in the salt sea good words
of advice are as rare and as little needed, as sweet
water or pleasant fruit."
Then good father Riol said, " An oid warrior ani I,
and not much longer can I live in any case. And yet I
would fain finish my course by leaving my oid body
upon dry land, rather than by losing it in this watery
waste."
And Sir Guy, the courteous chevalier, sought to con-
ceal his terror by singing, —
« I would I were a little bird I
Quickly to my nest I'd fly."
Then Garin, the lover of good cheer, said, "May
Heaven save us from pain I Pleasanter by far would it
be to drink a single cup of red wine than to treat one's
self to all the water in the sea."
And Sir Lambert, the witty, responded, " Be sure we
Haw the Peers returned to France. 363
shall not be forgotten 1 Yet happier would I be to eat
one good fish, however small, than to be devoured by
that same fish."
" For me," said Duke Godfrey, the noble, " I accept
my lot Happy am I in knowing that I shall fare no
worse than those who are better than I."
All this time King Charlemagne stood at the helm,
He spoke not a word ; but he guided the vessel with a
strong hand, until at length the fury of the waves was
exhausted And, behold ! the shores of their own loved
France lay before the sea-tossed warriors, fragrant with
the odor of blossoms and of the ripe summer fruit1
As the king and his knights rode homeward between
the vineyards and the rich fields with which the peaceful
country was now everywhere covered, the people greeted
them with glad shouts and heartfelt blessings. And as
they drew near the city of Pans, the fair home from
which they had been absent so long, a noble company
of knights and ladies came out to welcome them;
and together they entered the city gates. The streets
were strewn with garlands and green leaves and fra-
grant roses ; from every tower and every housetop, gay
banners floated in the breeze; young maidens walked
before them, singing triumphal songs ; and all the peo-
ple shouted for joy. At every turn of the street gor-
geous arches had been built, where were displayed the
trophies taken in war, and many an inscription relating
1 See Note 17 at the end of this volume.
364 The Story of Roland.
to the deeds of the returning heroes. And tbe whole
city was given up to merry-making. And many a tour-
ney was held, and many a mask and ball. And, for a
long time thereafter, nothing was heard or talked about
In Paris, save music and mirth, and brave feats of arms,
the happy restoration and return of Roland
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 365
ADVENTURE XXXI.
HOW CHARLEMAGNE FOUGHT AGAINST
OGIER.
SHALL I tell you of the sad war which Charlemagne
waged for so long a time against one of the noblest of
his vassals ? Sorrowful, indeed, were those days, and
much shame did the peers suffer on account of the
proud-faced king.
Ogicr the Dane had married Belicene, the daughter
of the Lord of St. Omer; and he had one son named
Baldwinet. Tall and comely grew the lad, and proud
of look ; and Ogier loved him more than all things else,
One day the king's son Chariot played at chess with
Baldwinet ; and, much to the surprise of the prince, the
young lad checkmated him. Very furious grew Chariot
He seized the golden chessboard, and struck Baldwinet
so fiercely that he stretched him dead on the marble
floor. When Ogier heard of the bloody deed, he has-
tened to the hall where his son still lay, he lifted the
cold and bloody body in his arms, and kissed the fair
white face. The knights who stood around, sorrowful
and horror-stricken, wept at the sight Then Ogier
366 The Story of Roland.
sprang angrily to his feet again : he seized a huge club,
and sought Chariot from chamber to chamber to kill
him. But Charlemagne, too blind to the faults of hia
wicked and foolish son, had hidden him in a secret
closet Ogier sought the king, and asked that due
punishment should be meted out to the black-hearted
prince. But the king mocked him and banished him
from the court.
" Take thyself hence," said he angrily ; " and, if to-
morrow's sun sees thee in France, thou shalt find thyself
in the darkest dungeon in our kingdom."
Ogier, despairing of justice, and filled with sorrow
and rage, mounted his good steed Broiefort, and rode
away from the king's court. He went straight to his
castle of Garlandori, — a fief which he held of the king
in Southern France. But, when Charlemagne heard
that the bereaved and sorrow-stricken knight was stil)
within his domains, he called his host together and laid
siege to Garlandon. Then Ogier, not wishing to fight
against the king, secretly quitted the castle, taking with
him neither palfrey nor sumter horse, but only his brave
»teed Broiefort. He crossed the snowy Alps, and came
st length to the city of Pavia, and presented himself be-
fore Didier, the King of the Lombards.
"Fair king," said he, "I am a man who has been
exiled, hunted, from sweet France. Charlemagne has
driven me out of his kingdom ; and he has left me
aeither town nor castle, nor even so much land a§ I
could lie upon It was all because I demanded justice
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 367
for the death of the young lad Baldwinet, whom I loved
so well And now I come to you, and beg your aid ;
for I may have need of it. And I will serve you with
sword and lance so well that you shall love me."
" What is thy name ? ' asked Didier.
44 My name is Ogier, and men call me ' the Dane.' "
At this word Didier leaped to his feet, and right
warmly he welcomed the Dane. And he gave to Ogier
as fiefs two famous strongholds, — Castle-Fort on the
Rhone, which had never been entered by a foe, and
Mount Quevrel on the Rock.
The next spring, King Charlemagne held an Easter
feast at Paris. Never since the days of Alexander the
Greek, of Lucian of Acre, or of Clovis, who was next
after Caesar, had a king held a feast so grand. There
sat at his table seventeen kings, thirty bishops, and full
a thousand knights. And, while they feasted, some one
with slight discretion spoke the name of Ogier.
"The traitor 1" cried the king, striking his knife
upon the table, " He is the guest of Didier of Lom-
bardy, but he shall not long be so. Who now is there
among you, brave knights, who will go beyond the
mountains, and bid Didier send me this rebel as a cap-
tive ? "
Not one of the knights made answer, for those who
did not love Ogier feared him. Yet at last Namon the
Wise arose. Very old and frail was he, and his hair
and beard were white as snow.
" Sir king/' said he, " since no younger man offers to
368 The Story of Roland.
go, I will bear your message ; for it is the first duty of
every knight to serve his lord"
But the king would not let him go. Then Namon
turned to his son Bertram, who sat by his side, and
bade him undertake the errand.
" It is well/1 said the king. " Bertram shall go."
And Bertram, although very loath to do so, departed
at once. Had it not been for his father's wishes, he
would not have gone.
When the young knight reached Pavia, he went at
once to the king's palace. Didier was sitting at his
table in his feast hall, and Ogier sat beside him. When
Bertram was shown into the hall, the Dane knew him
at once as the son of his old friend, Duke Namon. He
knew him by the checkered helmet which he wore, and
the silver eagle on either side, and the sword-hilt of
purest gold ; and he would have given all the treasure
in the world to have been elsewhere. He whispered to
Didier, and begged him to treat the messenger kindly,
and not let his ill-mannered Lombards insult the young
man.
Bertram then delivered his message : " If Didier doei
not send the Dane back in chains, like a greyhound,
then Charlemagne will come and destroy Pavia, and
overrun and ruin his kingdom of Lombardy and place
a better knight on the throne."
When he had spoken, Ogier arose, and answered:
"Didier owes no vassalry to Charlemagne, save the
succor of ten thousand men for sixty days, in case the
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 369
French king makes war in Italy. As to myself, Ogier
the Dane, I do not believe that Didier will fail me. If
Charlemagne would overrun and ruin Lombardy, let
him come. He shall find us not asleep."
Then Bertram answered by accusing Ogier of treason
to the king, and of not yet having paid the tribute
which his father Godfrey had owed for the fief of Den-
mark. Very angry grew Ogier ; and in a great passion
he seized a knife and flung it at the young knight
Happily, the weapon missed its mark, only cutting the
fringe of Bertram's hauberk. Then better thoughts
came to the Dane, and he remembered the kind coun-
sels and the generous help he had so often received
from Namon the gentle duke. And so he answered
the rash messenger mildly, as a worthy knight, as a
wise and well-taught man.
"For the sake of thy father, Namon the flowery-
bearded," said he, "the spear of Ogier shall never be
levelled against thee. Charlemagne has driven me from
sweet France : he has disherited me, and made me an
outlaw. And all this has been for no wickedness of my
own, but only because I dared open my mouth when
Chariot slew Baldwinet, the son whom I loved so well."
The next morning Didier called his barons together,
and they talked over the message which Charlemagne
had sent And they bade Bertram carry this word back
to the French king : " We have pledged our friendship
and aid to Ogier the Dane, and we will not deliver him
over to his enemies. If Charlemagne would decide thif
37O The Story of Roland.
matter by a trial of arras, let him meet us in May, in t
pitched battle under Ajossa."
When Bertram returned to France, and delivered hii
message, Charlemagne began at once to make ready for
war. He called together an army of fifty thousand
warriors. But the peers Roland and Oliver and Reio
old joined not the standard of the king : they would
take no part in this unrighteous war. The king's host
crossed the mountains, and camped in the meadows
before St Ajossa. There, as Charlemagne sat before
his tent, he saw a great company of folk coming down
the hills on his right. It was Gerard of Viana, with ten
thousand crossbow-men. He looked to the left, and
saw another ten thousand warriors coming up through
the meadows, their hauberks and shields flaming in the
sunlight, and their banners fluttering toward the sky.
"What host of strangers is this?" asked Charle-
magne.
" It is Baldwin of Flanders, and his far-famed Flem-
ish spearmen," answered Duke Namon.
The two armies were drawn up in battle-array before
St Ajossa. Terrible was the shock with which they
met in combat ; fierce and long was the fight At
length, however, the Lombards were beaten, and King
Didier sought safety in flight. Everywhere the French
were victorious ; for they were the braver knights, and
better trained. Ogier, on the back of his faithful
Broiefort, fled from the lost field with fifteen thousand
foes close following behind him. Bat the good hone
How Charlemagne fought against Ogi&r. 371
distanced his pursuers, and carried his master safely
out of danger. The hunted Dane hastened now to
reach the shelter of his own stronghold, Castle-Fort
on the Rhone, which Didier the Lombard had gives
him.
One day, overcome by fatigue and long wakefulneat,
ae stopped in a mountain glen, and lay down behind a
huge rock to rest He lifted the helmet from his head,
and placed it on the grass beside him ; and such was
his wean ness, that, ere he was aware, he had fallen
asleep. While he slept, a company of Frenchmen
came up with him, and, had it not been for Broiefort,
he would have fared but ill at their hands. The good
horse, seeing that danger was near, neighed loudly and
struck the ground with his hoofs ; but Ogier ctill slept.
Then the noble beast seized his master by the collar of
his hauberk, and shook him until he awoke. The Dane
had barely time to mount the faithful steed and gallop
out of the glen. That afternoon, as he hurried onward,
closely followed by his foes, he came to a little castle,
standing in the edge of the wood by the side of a wide
morass. There was no town nor any farmlands near ;
*nd the place, even if not deserted, seemed very poorly
guarded. The gate was wide open ; and, as no sentinel
or warder was there to challenge or prevent him, Ogier
rode boldly in. The courtyard was empty ; and neither
lord aor servitor could be seen, although the Dane
thought he heard loud voices, and sounds of life, in the
V&w-buiJt halls. He had no time, however, for cere
The Story of Roland.
raony; for his pursuers were already in sight He
quickly dismounted, and drew up the bridge, and shut
and barred the gates behind him. Then, without hesi-
tation, he went into the dining hall, where he found the
owner of the castle and all his family sitting at the
table,
" Kind sir," said he to the man, " I am a knight, who,
for no fault of my own, am banished from my own coun-
try, and hunted from place to place like a felon. If
thou wilt give me shelter, I will richly repay thee."
But the man rose up in a furious passion, and tried
to drive Ogier from the hall.
" If thou art so lacking in courtesy as to thrust a
stranger thus rudely from thy house,'* said the Dane,
"thou must not complain if I take forcible possession
of all that thou hast." And he drew his sword, and
drove the man and his family out through the postern
gate, which he closed and bolted behind them. Then
he searched every part of the castle, from the deep
cellars to the highest tower, to see whether the place
were well victualled And he found great plenty of salt
meat, and bread and wine, and dainties of every sort,
The table was loaded with rich food, cakes, and red
wine, and cranes, and geese, and every kind of wild
game. There were provisions enough for a sinal1
garrison.
Not long was it until Charlemagne, with ten thou-
sand warriors, came up, and laid siege to the castle,
He pitched his tent right before the gate, and placed
Haw Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 373
armed men on every side, — a thousand squires, a thou-
sand spearmen, a thousand crossbow-men. The walls
were not very high ; but the ditch was wide and deep,
and there seemed no way of crossing. At length, by
the king's orders, the besiegers cut down the willows of
the marsh and the brushwood in the forest, and threw
them into the moat to fill it up. And ten great ladders
were placed against the walls. But Ogier defended
himself right manfully, and kept his enemies at bay
until nightfall, when they returned to their tents, vow-
ing that he should not escape them on the morrow. It
was v fearful night The rain fell in torrents, the light-
nings flashed, the thunder rolled, and there was such a
tempest as has seldom been known. But Charlemagne
set two thousand men on guard, and watchfires were
built for seven leagues around.
Ogier7 s heart sank within him. " Never in my life,"
said he to himself, " have I done good to any one who
did not in the end seek my destruction." He did not
think of the great-hearted Roland, who all this time
held himself aloof from the king.
When the earliest dawn of that long night began to
appear, the Dane went to the stables to find Broiefort
The noble creature knew his master ; he neighed softly,
and scratched his foot for joy.'
"Horse," said Ogier lovingly, "there was never a
steed so good, so proud, in every way so worthy, as
tbou. Thou hast done me good service in many a
: canst thou help me once more? In all the
374 Tk* Story of Roland.
world there is not one man who holds me dear ; and, if
thou shouldst fail me, I would be undone."
The good horse raised his head as if he understood
his master : he neighed again, and struck uneasily with
his foot The knight put on the saddle, and threw the
golden reins upon the proud charger's neck ; and, jisst
as the cocks were crowing, he opened the castle-gate
and looked out All was quiet in Charlemagne's cainp,
and the watchers seemed to be asleep. Softly did
Ogier let down the bridge ; he vaulted into the saddle ;
he breathed a short prayer to Heaven, and dashed
boldly away. The camp was aroused : the men rushed
to arms. Many of them saw Ogier galloping away ; but
they pitied his plight, and would not harm him. Oth-
ers, who were his kinsmen, or who had fought by his
side in many a hard-won fray, secretly blessed him as
he passed And, ere Charlemagne could rally his
squires and crossbow-men, the gallant Dane was well
on his way to Castle-Fort.
Right hearty was the welcome which Ogier received
when he rode into his own castle. And the three hun-
dred warriors who were there at once made every thing
ready for a siege. On one side of Castle-Fort there
was a marsh so soft and deep that no man could ride
across it; and on the other was the swift-running
Rhone, washing the foot of the tower. Within the
walls there was a spring and a little brook so wide and
so deep that dames and damsels, burgesses and knighu,
might bathe in it ; and ere it poured its waters into tfc«
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 375
river, it turned three mills, which stopped not the whole
year round.
Soon Charlemagne's army arrived, and laid close
siege to Castle-Fort And the king summoned Malrin,
the engineer, and promised him a thousand marks of
gold, and twenty war steeds, if he would batter down
the stronghold And forthwith Malrin called together
three hundred and eighteen skilled carpenters, and
more than four thousand workmen ; and they built
before the gate an engine seven stories high, whereon
a thousand one hundred and seventy bowmen could
stand. And day and night they shot great bolts of
steel, and iron-shod arrows, into the fort ; while Malrin,
from the uppermost story, threw Greek fire upon the
roofs of the houses, and kindled flames such that
neither water nor wine, but only cold earth and soft
clay, could quench.
Ogier and his men were at length driven into the
tower, and they stabled their horses in the deep dun-
geons underneath. But still the bolts and arrows and
stones, and the dreadful Greek fire, poured down upon
them, The tower was of stone, cemented with mortar
mixed with dragon's blood ; and no missile nor storm of
fire could harm it Yet one by one the valiant defend-
ers were picked off by Malrin's sharp-sighted bowmen,
until at length Ogier was left all alone. He was now
without squire or page or serving-man. He must
needs grind his own corn, draw water from his own
ill, heat it on the fire which he himself had kindled.
376 The Story of Roland.
sift his own flour, knead the dough, heat the oven, bake
his own bread. He was his own cook, his own butler,
his own groom. Yet he knew full well, that one man
never held a castle long against his foes.
What Ogier next did, says the poet who told this
tale, no other man ever did. He cut down the small
oaks and the branchy trees which grew in the court-
yard, and shaped them into wooden men ; he dressed
them with hauberks and helmets, and girded swords
upon them, and hung shields on their necks, and put
battle-axes in their hands ; and then he fixed them on
the battlements, so that the French would think that
the fort was still well garrisoned.1 Charlemagne was
amazed. He wondered how so many men could subsist
in the tower, and how they could live amid the storm
of iron and fire which was hurled down upon them. He
began to think that some unseen power was fighting
for Ogier.
But ere long the gallant Dane became sorely pressed
with famine. His face grew pale with fasting : he
wasted away until he looked like a giant skeleton. In
his extremity he again mounted his good Broiefort, and
ftarly one morning dashed recklessly out of the gate.
A thousand base-minded squires pursued him ; but
Broiefort swam the rapid River Cercle, and left them
far behind When Charlemagne learned that Ogier had
again escaped him, he was very angry. He warned the
knights who were with him, that they should on no
* See Note if at the «nd of tfai*
OGIER'S GARRISON.
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 377
account favor the rebellious Dane, on pain of being
punished as traitors. And then he returned with his
host to Paris.
Meanwhile, Ogier hastened on his way toward Den-
mark, for there he felt that he would find friends. One
day he stopped by the roadside to rest ; and, feeling
weary and worn out, he ungirt his sword Short, and lay
down beneath a tree to sleep. While he slept, it so
happened that Archbishop Turpin, with a following of
knights and squires, passed that way. They saw the
warrior lying in peaceful slumber upon the grass, and
they remarked the nobleness of his horse and the
beauty of his armor. And, when they drew nearer, all
knew that it was Ogier. The good archbishop was
sorely troubled. He would fain not harm his brother-in-
arms ; yet, if he did not take him prisoner, Charlemagne
would drive him from the kingdom. So, after much
ado, they took Ogier's horse and sword, and over-
powered and bound the Dane himself,
" My once kind friend," said Ogier to the archbishop,
" thou doest me too great an injury. If thou wouldst
befriend me, kill me at once, rather than give me up to
the king."
But Turpin bade him be of good cheer. He assured
him that he would take him to Reims, and put him in
his own dungeon, and see that no harm came to him.
When Charlemagne heard that the Dane had been
taken at last, and that he was in prison at Reims, he
was very glad, and he began making ready to have him
378 Th* Story of Roland.
hanged like a common thief. But Archbishop Turpin
came before him with a retinue of knights, bishops, and
abbots, and begged that he would spare the life of the
unhappy Dane. And Gerard of Rousillon and fuD
sixty dukes and barons joined them in this petition,
and threatened, that, if Charlemagne slew Ogier, they
would declare war against him. And Turpin promised,
that, in case the knight's life were spared, he would
keep him in his own dungeon, where he should never
see his hands or his feet, and where he should have for
his daily allowance not more than a quartern of bread
and one cup of water and wine mixed.
" Only give him his life," said the archbishop, " and
he shall never cause you trouble again."
At last the king relented, and good Turpin returned
in great joy to Reims. He had a silver cup made,
which held a whole gallon of wine; and a bushel of
flour he made into two loaves, so that seven knights
could not eat a quartern. And Ogier fared most royally
in the archbishop's dungeon, for he wanted neither
comfort nor amusement Yet he was often sad and
downhearted, and he grieved greatly for his friends.
Anl in his loneliness, shut out from the sunlight and
the companionship of those whom he loved, his long
hair and beard became white as the snow.
But by and by there came a change in Ogier's for-
tunes. France was being threatened with invasion by
Brehus, \ Saracen chief of great valor and distinction ;
and Charlemagne had marshalled his host, and was mak
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 379
ing ready to repel the invaders. The French were
waiting the king's orders to' march ; and all the peers,
save Ogier, were in their places, rhen Turpin went
into the presence of the king, and said, —
" My lord, we can scarcely expect Heaven's blessing
to rest on this enterprise while one of the peers is
absent There are twelve of us, but here are only
eleven,"
At the same time three hundred squires, all sons of
the noblest men in the kingdom, began to cry out,
" Ogier 1 Ogier i " And Duke Namon boldly advised
the king to pardon the good Dane, and set him free.
"But he is dead," said the king.
" Not so," answered Namon. " He is alive and well,
in the archbishop's dungeon."
"If that is true," said the king, "thou shalt take him
out, and we will make him all due amends,"
When word was brought to Ogier that the king was
willing to pardon him in order that he might lead his
fighting-men against the Saracens, he seemed but little
gladdened by the news.
"Never," said he, "will I don breastplate or shield,
or lift the lance, until Chariot, who slew my gentle son,
shall be given over into my hands."
Charlemagne was in distress. He knew that, unless
Ogier were with them, the peers would not advance
against the Saracen but would rather defy his authority.
And yet his love for the foolish Chariot was as great as
ever. At last, however, by Duke Namon's advice, h«
380 The Story of Roland.
yielded, and sent word to Ogier that he should do with
Chariot as he wished. The Dane was brought out oi
his prison, and dressed in his own armor, which the
good archbishop had carefully kept for him. He was
tall and straight, and his look was proud as that of a
lion. When he had donned his arms, he looked anx-
iously around him.
" Where, now, is my horse Broiefort," asked he, — "the
good friend who stood by me when all others failed ? '
The archbishop could not tell ; but a monk who
stood near remembered having seen the steed drawing
a heavy cartload of stones at Meaux. "When Ogier
was thrown into prison," said he, " the abbot of Meaux
took charge of his horse. The old man was very proud
of his steed, arid very impatient to try him ; and so,
when he was ready to leave Reims, he mounted him,
intending to ride home on his back. But the horses
who had been used to the giant weight of Ogier and his
armor, hardly knew that any one was on his back, so
small and light is the good abbot. He started off at a
great speed, running up hill and down at a rate which
frightened the abbot almost out of his senses ; and, as
be passed the convent of Jouaire, he threw the good
man off, right before the eyes of the abbess and her
nuns. This accident so angered and mortified the
abbot, that he has kept the horse hard at work ever
since, hauling stones for the new chapel which he it
building."
Messengers were at once sent to Meaux. who re-
How Charlemagne fought against Ogier. 38 1
turned soon after with the horse. But he was not the
noble-looking steed that he had once been. He was
thin and poor; and his sides had been galled by the
shafts ; and his eyes had no longer any look of human
intelligence about them. Yet he remembered his old
master : he whinnied softly, and struck the ground with
his hoofs, and then lay down before him for very hum-
bleness. Ogier rubbed the horse's bare flanks with his
rich embroidered cloak, and wept as if his heart would
burst. And the squires covered the steed with rich
trappings of cloth-of-gold and of ermine ; and they put
a golden bit in his mouth, and reins of silk upon his
neck. And the whole company departed for Laoii,
where the king awaited them.
When Ogier came into the presence of Charlemagne,
he asked that the king should fulfil his promise by giv-
ing up Chariot for punishment. But the father's heart
of Charlemagne made him hesitate. Then Turpin and
Duke Namon, and all the peers, besought the king to
yield, not only for his own honor's sake, but for the
sake of the people and of Christendom. And so he
sent for Chariot to come and deliver himself up to
Ogier. Trembling with fear, the wicked young prince
obeyed. He cast himself with crossed hands upon the
ground, and with bitter tears he besought Ogier* s par-
don. Duke Namon, too, and the other peers, begged
Ogier to be merciful. But the Dane bade them hold
their peace. He drew from its scabbard, the rich-lettered
brand Short, and flourished it angrily about Chariot's
382 The Story of Roland.
head. The king, in great horror and distress, fled to
the chapel, and knelt with covered head before the altar.
Then Ogier gently lifted Chariot from the ground, and
pardoned him for the great wrong which he had done
him, and bade him go in peace. And after this, he
went into the chapel, where the king still knelt ; and
the two embraced each other in the presence of the
host, and mutually forgave each other, and
their faith, and a lifelong friendship.
The V&U of 7^0rns. 383
ADVENTURE XXXlf.
THE VALE OF THORNS.
years passed In all the world there was not
such another king as Charlemagne, Wherever his artai
were carried, there victory followed ; and neither Pagan
nor haughty Christian foe dared lift up hands any more
against him. His kingdom stretched from the Baltic
Sea to the Italian shores, and from beyond the Rhine to
the great Western Ocean, Princes were his servants ;
kings were his vassals ; and even the Pope of Rome did
him homage. And now he had crossed the Pyrenees,
and was carrying fire and sword into the fair fields and
rich towns of the Spanish Moors ; for he had vowed to
punish Marsilius, king of Spain, for the injuries he had
done the French in former years. And he had overrun
the whole of that haughty land, and had left neithes
castle, nor city, nor wall, unbroken, tare only the town
of Saragossa.
One day Charlemagne sat beneath the blossoming
trees of an orchard near Cordova. White was hit
beard, and flowered was his head ; yet still handsome
was his body, and proud bid form. Aromad him were
384 Tk* S^y °f
the noblest of his knights, Roland and Oliver and old
Duke Namon, and fifteen thousand of the choicest men
of France. It was a gala-day for the French, and the
warriors amused themselves with field-sports, and many
pleasant games. Then a party of Moorish messenger*
were brought before the king. They came from Mar-
silius at Saragossa, who had sent to beg peace of Charle-
magne.
"What will Marsilius give for peace?" asked the
king.
" If you will go back to your own country, and cease
this unhappy war," answered they, "then Marsilius
binds himself to do this: he will go to Aix at Mich-
aelmas, and be baptized; he will do homage then for
Spain, and will faithfully hold it in fief from you ; he
will give you great store of treasures, — four hundred
mules loaded with gold, and fifty cartloads of silver,
besides numbers of bears and lions and tame grey-
hounds, and seven hundred camels, and a thousand
moulted falcons. Too long has this cruel war been
waging. Marsilius would fain have peace."
Charlemagne listened to the words of the messen-
ger*, but he was not quick to answer. He called to-
gether his peers, and laid the matter before them.
"What think you of the Moor's offers of peace?"
asked he.
" Put no trust in Marsilius I " cried Roland " He is
the most faithless of Pagans, and speaks only lies.
Carry on the war as you have begun, and talk not ol
peace until Saragossa is ours."
The VaU of Thorns. 385
1 ~^
Charlemagne's face grew dark, yet he said not a word.
It was plain that he coveted the treasures which Mar-
silius had promised. Then Ganelon arose, and with
curling lip, thus answered, —
"If Marsilius offers to do fealty for Spain, and to
hold it as a gift from you, wherefore should we refuse
his plea? He who would advise you otherwise cares
not what manner of death we die."
And Namon of Bavaria added, "If the Moor is
beaten, and cries for mercy, it would be an unknightly
act to continue warring against him. My voice is for
peace."
And all the peers, save Roland and Oliver, cried out,
" The duke hath spoken wisely. Let us have peace ! '
" It is well," answered Charlemagne ; " and so it shall
be. But whom shall we send to Saragossa to treat
with Marsilius, and to receive the pledges of good faith
which he shall give ? "
Then arose a great dispute among the peers as to
which should undertake this dangerous errand. Duke
Namon, who was never known to shirk a duty, offered
to go ; but the king would not consent He liked net
to part with his wise old friend, even for a single day.
" I will carry the message," said Roland.
"Not so, my brother," interrupted Oliver. "Thy
pride will get the better of thy judgment, and thou wilt
act rashly. Let me undertake the errand"
But Charlemagne refused them both. "Neither of
you shall go," said he. " But you may choose one from
among these other barons to be the messenger."
The Story of Roland,
"Then send Gancion of Mayence," said Roland
MHe is in favor of this peace, and he is most fit to
sarry the message."
44 Yes, send Ganelon of Mayence!" cried all the
peers.
Ganelon rose from his seat in rage. Fire flashed
from his hazel eyes ; his lips quivered ; he tore the sable
border from his crimson tunic, and stood proudly before
Roland. "Fool!" cried he. "Who art thou who
wouldst send me to Marsilius ? If I but live to come
again from Saragossa, I will deal thee such a blow as
thou shalt never forget."
"Speak softly, Sir Ganelon." said Roland. "Men
know that I care not for threats. If thou art afraid of
the danger, mayhap the king will allow me to go in thy
place."
Hotter than before was Ganelon's wrath ; but he
held his tongue, and turned humbly toward the king.
" My lord," said he, " since you will that I bear this
message to Marsilius, I go. But I know too well the
false-hearted Moor to hope that I shall ever return. I
pray you, care for my fair son Baldwin, to whom I leave
my lands and all my fiefs. Keep him wel', for these
eyes of mine Lhall never see him again."
44 Thou art too fearful, and too tender of heart," said
the king, as he offered to Ganelon the staff and the
glove which messengers were wont to carry as signs of
their office. " Go now, and doubt not the issue of thins
errand."
The VaU of Thorns. 387
Ganelon took the staff ; but his hand trembled, and
the glove fell to the ground.
"An evil omen is that," whispered the peers who
saw it " It is a sign of no good fortune, either to hiss
or to us."
Then Ganelon bade the king good-by, and went
his way. But he said to himself, "This is Roland's
doings, and I shall hate him all my life long : neither
shall I love Oliver his brother, nor any other of the
twelve peers."
When he reached Saragossa, Ganelon was led into
the presence of Marsilius. The Moorish king sat under
a pine- tree, and twenty thousand warriors stood around
him.
" What answer bring you from your liege-lord Charle-
magne ? " asked he.
Ganelon had studied well what he should say ; and he
answered, like one long used to cunning guile, " If thou
wilt be baptized and become a Christian, Charlemagne
will give thee the half of Spain to hold in fief. If thou
wilt not accept this offer, then he will besiege thee in
Saragossa, and take thee prisoner; and he will send
thee bound upon the back of a sumter horse to Aix, and
there he will have thee put to death. This is the mes-
sage which Charlemagne sends thee."
Great was the inger of the Moorish king, and he
raised his javelin to strike the messenger dead. But
Ganelon, no whit daunted, set his back against the
trunk of a tree, and drew his sword part way from itt
scabbard.
388 The Story of Roland.
"Good sword," said he, "thou art fair and bright,
and thou hast done me many a service. Never shall it
be said that Ganelon died alone in a strange land"
But the courtiers of King Marsilius stepped in be-
tween them. "It were better," said they, "to treat
with this man than to slay him. If his face slander
him not, he is a man who may be persuaded to help us
Try him."
Then Marsilius called Ganelon to his side, and offered
him five hundred pounds of gold for his friendship.
And the two sat long together, and plotted bloodshed
and treason.
"Indeed, what think you of this Charlemagne?'
asked the Moor. "Through how many lands has he
carried that old body of his? How many scars are
there on his shield? How many kingdoms has he
stolen, and how many kings impoverished ? Methinks
that his days are well-nigh spent. He must be more
than two hundred years old."
But Ganelon, although a traitor, would say naught
against the king. " None can see him," said he, " but
will say that he is a man. None can so praise or honor
him, but that there shall yet be in him more worth and
goodness."
"Yet, methinks," said the Moor, "that he is very old.
His beard is white ; his hair is flowered It is strange
that he grows not tired of fighting."
" That he will never do so long as Roland, his neph-
lives," answered Ganelon. " There, too, is Oliver ;
The VaU of Thorns. 389
and there are the other peers ef the realm, all of whom
the king holds most dear. They alone are worth
twenty thousand men."
"I have heard much of Roland," said the Moor; "and
I would fain put him out of the way. Tell me how it
can be done, and thou shalt have three baggage horse-
loads of gold, three of silver, and three of fine silk and
red wine and jewels."
Now Ganelon desired, above all things, the death of
Roland ; and he eagerly made known his plans to Mar-
silius.
" Send to Charlemagne," said he, " great store of rich
gifts, so that every Frenchman shall wonder at your
wealth. Send also hostages, and promise him that on
next Michaelmas you will be baptized at Aix and do
him homage for Spain. Pleased with your promises,
he will return to sweet France. But his rearguard,
with Roland and Oliver, and twenty thousand French-
men, will be long among the passes of the Pyrenees.
A hundred thousand Moors could well cope with them
there."
Then the two traitors exchanged promises and
pledges ; and Ganelon, taking with him the keys of
Saragossa, and rich presents for Charlemagne, went
back to Cordova.
Right glad was Charlemagne to hear the message
which the lying traitor brought. He was tired of war-
ring, and he longed to return in peace to his own sweet
France. The next day the trumpets sounded through-
The Story of Roland.
out the camp. The tents were struck ; the baggage WM
packed on the sumter horses ; the knights mounted
their steeds ; banners and pennons waved thick in the
air; the great army began its glad march homeward.
Joyful was the beginning of that march ; but, ah, how
sad the ending! The French did not see the crafty
Moors following them through the upper valleys, theit
banners furled, their helmets closed, their lances in rest
That first night the king was troubled with sad
dreams. He thought that Ganeion seized his lance
and shook it, and that it fell in pieces. He thought
that he hunted in the forest of Ardennes, and that both
a boar and a leopard attacked him. A thousand fearful
fancies vexed him. Mountains fell upon him and
crushed him ; the earth yawned and swallowed him ;
perils beset him on every side : but amid them all, the
face of Ganeion was ever to be seen.
By and by the army came to the Pyrenees, and the
great land of France lay just beyond the mountains,
"To whom now/* said the king to his peers, "shall
we intrust our rearguard while we pass safely through
the mountain gates ? '
"Give it to Roland, your nephew," said Ganeion
* There is none more worthy than he."
" And who shall lead the vanguard ? "
"Ogier, the Dane. Next to Roland, he is the bravest
of your barons/'
Right willingly did Roland accept the dangerous
trust
The Vale of Thorns* 391
* I will sec to it," said he, " that no harm come to
the French while passing through the gates. Neither
pack-horse, nor mule, nor palfrey, nor charger, nor man
shall we lose, that shall not be paid for by the blood oi
•ur foes."
Then he mounted his steed, and rode back to th«
rear. And with him went Oliver and Gerin and Gerer
and Josse and Berenger and Jastor and Anseis, and
Duke Gaifer, and proud Gerard of Rousillon, and Tur-
pin the archbishop, and twenty thousand valiant nght-
ing-men.
High were the mountains, and gloomy the valleys ;
dark were the rocks, and fearful were the glens. But
the day was fair, and the sky was clear ; and the bright
shields of the warriors glittered in the sunlight like
flashes of fire. All at once a sound, as of a thousand
trumpets blowing, was heard in the valley below them.
The French knights hearkened.
" Comrades," said Oliver, " methinks that we are fol-
lowed by the Moors.**
44 And may God grant us battle and victory I ' said
Roland earnestly. "Well is it that we are here to
iefend the king. For one should never murmur that
He suffers distress for his friends : for them, he should
lose, if need be, both blood and flesh and even life it-
sell"
Then Oliver climbed a high pine tree, and looked
down into the grassy valley behind them. There h«
beheld such troop* of Pagan folk as he had never sees
392 The Story of Roland,
* Comrades/' cried he, " we shall have such a battle
as no man has known. The passes are full of armed
Moors : their hauberks and glittering helmets fill the
lower valleys. Great mischief is in store for us, but
may we stand to the field like men ! '
" Shame be to him that flees ! '" said the warriors who
heard him.
Bewildered and amazed at sight of so terrible an
array of Pagans, Oliver descended from the tree,
"Brother Roland," said he, "I pray thee blow thy
horn. The king will hear it, and he will turn him
about and come to our succor."
"To do so would be to act as a craven," answered
Roland. " Never shall it be said that I feared a foe, I
will strike strong strokes with Durandal. Ill shall it
fare with the Pagan traitors."
"Comrade Roland," again said Oliver, "now blow
thy horn. Charlemagne will hear it, and he will make
his host return."
"Never," answered Roland, "shall my kinsmen up-
braid me, or be blamed by me. But I will strike with
Durandal. The brand which the king gave me when
he knighted me, that shall be our succor."
Then Oliver prayed him the third time, "Comrade
Roland, sound now thine ivory horn. Charlemagne,
who is passing the gates, will hear us and come to our
aid."
" No man shall ever say," answered Roland, " that I
have blown my horn for Pagans. My kinsmen shaD
The Vale of Thorns. 393
aot bear that reproach. But when the great battle if
joined, then you shall see the lightning flashes of Du-
randal in the thickest of the fight. A thousand and
seven hundred times shall the blade be dyed in the
blood of the Moors. Better would it be to perish than
suffer shame."
But Oliver was not yet satisfied. " I have seen the
Moorish host," said he. "The mountains and the
plains, the valleys and the groves, are full of them.
Never have we fought against such great odds."
"Friend and brother," answered Roland, "say not
another word. The king has left us here, with a rear-
guard of twenty thousand men, and he esteems every
one of us a hero. Do thou strike with thy lance and
thy good blade Haultclear. As for me, Durandal shall
serve me well. And, if I die, men shall say, 'This
sword belonged to a noble knight*
Then the good Archbishop Turpin rode down the
ranks, holding a sword in one hand and a crucifix in
the other. "Comrades," cried he, "the king has left
as here. He trusts in us, and for him we shall die.
Cry now your sins to Heaven. Pray God's mercy, and
ask his blessing."
In a moment every knight among those twenty
thousand horsemen had dismounted. Humbly and rev-
erently every knee was bent, and every head was bowed.
And the good archbishop blessed the company in God's
name.
"If ye die," said he, "ye shall have places in para
iise."
$94 ^** Story of Roland.
^ «l^«M»0«Bi^«««lfc ll*»«^ ••• «r«B i r _-i ii j . - MIMMBVMMMC !••••• !••! BMeMMBHaKIVt
Then the warriors arose, light-hearted and hopefuL
They rode into the place which is called Roncevaux,
the Vale of Thorns, and there they put themselves in
battle-array, and waited the onset of their foes. Ro
land sat astride of his good war steed, and proudly
faced the Moorish host. In his hand he held the bared
blade Durandal, pointing toward heaven. Never was
seen a more comely knight Courteously he spoke to
the warriors about him. Then, putting spurs to his
steed, he cried, —
" Comrades, ride onward ! The day shall be ours /"
"Forget not the war cry of Charlemagne," said
Oliver.
At these words the rocks and valleys rang with the
cry, "Monjoie! Monjoie!"1 And every warrior dashed
forward to meet the foe.
Long and fierce was the fight, and terrible was the
slaughter. With heart and strength the French knights
struck. The Moors were slain by hundreds and by
thousands. For a time victory seemed to be with the
French. Many and valiant were the deeds achieved
by Roland and Oliver and the archbishop and the peers
that were with them. But at length Marsilius came
down upon them with a fresh troop of seven thousand
Moors. They hemmed the French heroes in on every
side. Roland saw his knights falling one by one
around him. All were slain save sixty men.
** Oliver, nsy fair dear comrade," said he, ** behold
» Sae K*te i« at tfc« e»4 ef this v«hnftft.
The Vale of Thorns. 395
how many brave vassals have fallen ! The battle goes
hard with us. If, now, we only knew how to send news
to Charlemagne, he would return and succor us."
"It is too late," answered Oliver. "Better would
we die than suffer shame."
Then said Roland, " I will sound my ivory horn.
Mayhap Charlemagne, who is passing the gates of
Spain, will hear it and return."
"Do no such thing," answered Oliver. "Great
shame would be upon you and your kinsmen forever.
You would not blow your horn when I advised it, and
now you shall not do so because the day is lost"
Then the archbishop rode up, and said, " The day is
indeed lost, and to blow the horn would now no more
avail us. But, should the king hear it, he will come
back through the passes. He will find us dead: his
men will lift us in biers and carry us home to be buried
in minsters, and we shall not be left as food for wolves
and dogs,"
"Thou sayest well," said Roland And he placed
the horn to his lips. High were the hiliss deep and
dark were the gorges, narrow were the ways among the
mountains. Yet the sound of that horn was heard for
thirty leagues. Charlemagne and Duke Naraon heard
it while yet they were between the gates.
44 Hark I" said the king. "I hear Roland's horn.
The felon Moors have attacked him : he is hard pressed
in battle."
44 You are foolishly mistaken,** said Gaselon. "There
396 The Story of Roland.
is no battle. You are old, your beard is white, your
head is flowery, you are growing childish. You love
your silly nephew, Roland, too well He is only hunt-
ing among the mountains. He would blow his horn all
day for a single hare, and then he would boast before
you of his valor. Ride on. Your own France is not
far ahead."
But the king was not to be deceived. He ordered
Ganelon to be seized and bound and given in charge of
his cooks, who were to hold him a close prisoner. They
bound him with a great chain, and laid him across the
back of a sumter horse ; they pulled his beard ; they
struck him with their fists ; they beat him with sticks.
Sorry indeed was the traitor's plight, but his punish-
ment was just. As for Charlemagne, he turned and,
with all his host, hastened back to the succor of Roland
and the valiant rearguard. High were the mountain
walls, and darkly did they overhang the way; deep
were the mountain gorges ; swift and strong were the
torrents ; narrow and steep was the road. The trum-
pets sounded : anxiously and with haste the king and
his horsemen retraced their steps.
Fiercely still the battle raged in the fated Vale of
Thorns. One by one the French knights fell ; but for
every one that was slain ten Pagans bit the dust. At
length Oliver was wounded unto death ; but still he sat
on his horse and struck valiantly about him with hia
good Haultclear. His eyes lost their strength : he could
aot see. He met Roland, and struck him a blow which
The Vale of Thorns. 397
split his helmet down to the nose-piece, but luckily
wounded him not
" Brother/1 said Roland softly and gently, " thou hast
not done this willingly. I am Roland, he who has loved
thee so long and so well."
"Ah, comrade!" said Oliver, "I hear thee ; but I can
not see thee. Pray forgive me if I have harmed thee."
"I am none the worse," answered Roland; "and there
is naught to forgive."
Then the two brothers bent over from their steeds,
and embraced each other; and amid much love and
many hasty words of farewell, they parted.
And now all the French were slain, save only Roland
and the archbishop. The hero was wounded in a dozen
places : he felt his life-blood oozing away. Again he
drew his ivory horn, and feebly sounded it He would
fain know whether Charlemagne were coming. The king
was in the pass, not far away, and he heard the failing
blast
"Ah, Roland!" said he, "the battle goes ill with
thee." Then he turned to his host, and said, "Blow
loud your trumpets, that the hero may know that succor
comes."
At once sixty thousand bugles were blown so loudly
that the valleys and the caves resounded, and the rocks
themselves trembled. Roland heard it and thanked
God. The Pagans heard it and knew that it boded no
good to them. They rushed in a body upon Roland
and the archbishop. Roland's horse was slain beneath
398 The Story of Roland.
him; his shield was split in twain; his hauberk was
broken. The archbishop was mortally wounded, and
stretched upon the ground. Again the trumpets of
Charlemagne's host were heard, and the Pagans fled in
great haste toward Spain.
Then Roland knelt by the side of the dying arch-
bishop. "Kind friend, so good and true," said he,
M now the end has come. Our comrades whom we held
so dear are all dead. Give me leave to bring them and
lay them in order by thee, that we may all have thy
blessing."
"It is well," answered the good Turpin. "Do as
thou wilt The field is thine and mine."
So Roland, weak and faint, went all alone through
that field of blood, seeking his friends. He found Be-
renger and Otho and Anseis and Samson, and proud
Gerard of Rousillon ; and one by one he brought them
and laid them on the grass before the archbishop.
And lastly he brought back Oliver, pressed gently
against his bosom, and placed him on a shield by the
others. The archbishop wept; and he lifted up his
feeble hands and blessed them : " Sad has it been with
you, comrades. May God, the glorious King, receive
your souls in his paradise I '
Then Roland, faint with loss of blood, and overcome
with grief, swooned and fell to the ground The good
archbishop felt such distress as he had never known be-
fore. He staggered to his feet ; he took the ivory horn
in his hands, and went to fetch water from the brook
The Vale of Thorns. 399
which flows through the Vale of Thorns. Slowly and
feebly he tottered onward, but not far: his strength
failed and he fell to the ground. Soon Roland recov-
ered from his swoon and looked about him. On the
green grass this side of the rivulet, he saw the arch
bishop lying. The good Turpin was dead.
And now Roland felt that he, too, was nigh death's
door. He took the ivory horn in one hand, and Duran-
dal in the other, and went up a little hill that lies
toward Spain. He sat down beneath a pine tree where
were four great blocks of marble. He looked at the
blade Durandal. "Ha, Durandal," he said, "how
bright and white thou art ! Thou shinest and flamest
against the sun! Many countries have I conquered
with thee, and now for thee I have great grief. Better
would it be to destroy thee than to have thee fall into
the hands of the Pagan folk."
With great effort he raised himself on his feet again,
Ten times he smote with Durandal the great rock be-
fore him. But the sword was bright and whole as ever,
while the rock was split in pieces. Then the hero lay
down upon the grass, with his face toward the foe. He
put the sword and the horn under him. He stretched
his right glove toward heaven, and an unseen hand
came and took it away. Dead was the matchless hero.
N«t long after this King Charlemagne with his host
came to the death-strewn Vale of Thorns. Great was
the grief of the king and of all the French, when they
found that they had come too late to save even a single
400 The Story of Roland.
life. Roland was found lying on the grass, his fact
turned toward Spain. Charlemagne took him up ten-
derly in his arms, and wept.
"Friend Roland," said he, "worthiest of men, bravest
of warriors, noblest of all my knights, what shall I say
when they in France shall ask news of thee ? I shall
tell them that thou art dead in Spain. With great sor-
row shall I hold my realm from this time on. Every
day I shall weep and bewail thee, and wish that my life,
too, were ended."
Then the French buried their dead on the field where
they had fallen. But the king brought Roland and
Oliver and the archbishop to Blaye in France, and laid
them in white marble tombs ; and there they lie until
this day, in the beautiful little chapel of St. Roman's.
And he took the ivory horn to Bordeaux, and filled it
with fine gold, and laid it on the altar of the church in
that city ; and there it is still seen by the pious pi!«
grims who visit that place.1
1 Saa N*4e a* at fee art cf Ms
THE AFTER WORD.
SUCH is the story of Roland as gathered from the
songs and poems of the middle ages.
When Charlemagne returned, sad, and worn with
many cares, to his own chosen home at Air, a fair
damsel met him on the threshold of his palace. It was
Alda, Oliver's sister, the betrothed wife of Roland.
"Where now is Roland the hero, the worthiest of
the barons of France ? ' asked she.
Scarcely could the king make answer, so great was
the sorrow which lay at his heart " Sister, fair friend,"
said he gently, " that noble knight whom we both loved
so well can nevermore come to thee, nor will his strong
arm ever again defend us."
Faded then the color from the faithful maiden's
cheeks. She cried not, nor uttered a sound She tot
tered, and fell on the stone pavement at Charlemagne's
feet God is kind : he takes the broken-hearted home,
The maidens in the palace raised her up tenderly, and
bore her into the quiet little chapel, where they
watched over her body, and prayed for her soul, until
i H
402 The After Word.
the break of day ; and then, with many sad tears and
bitter lamentations, they buried her close by the altar
and full great honor did the king pay to her.1
As for Ganelon the traitor, he was brought before the
council of peers, loaded with irons and chained like a
felon. " Lord barons," said the king, " here is Ganelon,
whom I pray you will judge as beseemeth you just.
He has traitorously taken from me twenty thousand
of my host, and my nephew whom ye shall never see,
and Oliver the brave and the courteous ; and he has
betrayed the twelve peers for gold."
And the song goes on to tell, how, through the advice
of Thierry of Anjou, Ganelon was sentenced to be torn
in pieces by horses, — a just punishment for one so base
and vile. But Charlemagne's heart was overburdened
with sorrow and care ; and naught could bring again
the hopefm days of the past " O God ! " said he in
despair, " so painful is my life ! ' And he wept with hie
eyes, and pulled his snow-white beard.
Here ends the song which Turold sang. But another
poem * tells us, that, not long after this, the great king
died, and that at the moment of his death all the bells
in the kingdom tolled, of their own accord, a solemn
dirge. He was buried in Aix-la-Chapelle, in a tomb*
which, according to one account,* was very rich ami
'- S«e Note si at the end of tfcia volume.
* Cotorameme&t de Lewis. • Cr&dea General de
The After Word. 403
well made. And on this tomb were painted all the
battles which he had fought and won. But on that side
which faced toward the Pyrenees Mountains, where he
had been outwitted and defeated by the Moors, there
was not any thing painted ; for he had not yet avenged
himself for the latest injuries which he had there received
As for Ogier the Dane, it is related by one of the
older song-writers, from whom I have already borrowed
much, that he lived a long time in Hainault and Bra-
bant, doing good, and hating evil, and protecting the
poor and friendless. Wherever he went, the people
called down Heaven's choicest blessings upon him ; and
when he died, full of years and honors, he was buried
in the abbey at Meaux. But another and later poem
tells us a very different story. It relates, that, before
the death of Charlemagne, Ogier, with a thousand
French knights, and assisted by his brother Guyon of
Denmark, led a crusade into the Holy Land. On every
hand the Saracens were subdued, and at length Ogier
was crowned King of Judaea. But not long did he enjoy
his kingdom. He was ill at ease and unhappy, so far
from the court of Charlemagne, and he determined to
return to France. One night he embarked secretly,
and sailed across the sea. The sky was clear, the wind
was fair, and the vessel sped swiftly onward, but not in
tbs way which its master desired. A mountain of mag
iron drew it toward an unknown shore, where it
404 Tke After
was dasbed to pieces upon the rocks. With difficulty
Ogier e«aped from the wreck. The country in which
he found himself was a strange land* not like any he
had ever before seen. While he stood, uncertain which
way to go, a beautiful horse, stronger and fairer even
than Broiefort, came across the sands, and knelt before
him, as if asking him to mount. Nothing fearing, Ogier
leaped upon his back. With a neigh of delight, the
horse, who was none other than Papillon, the fairy-
steed of Morgan the Fay, bounded forward. Over
rocks and hills, through forests, and among steep
precipices, he ran with lightning speed, and paused
not until he arrived at a wondrous palace built in the
midst of a most beautiful landscape. There were gar-
dens and orchards and lakes and waterfalls and foun
tains and every thing that could charm the senses of
the hero. It was the island Vale of Avalon —
" Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns,
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea."
There he was kindly welcomed by Morgan the Fay,
the queen of that land. A crown of roses was placed
upon his head, and he lost all remembrance of his?
former life. There, through long years of happiness,
he had the companionship of King Arthur and his
The After Word, 405
knights, and of all the great heroes that have ever
lived on earth ; and he was freed from death and every
mortal care. But once on a time he bethought him
that he would return to France and visit his friend
Charlemagne again. The fairy queen consented, and
the sea-goblins carried him back. But every thing wa*
changed. Paris was no longer the city he had once
known. He made his way to the palace, and inquired
for Charlemagne. Men laughed at him, and told him
that Charlemagne had been dead two hundred years,
and that Hugues Capet was king of France. The good
Dane felt now that the world had no joys for him ;
and not long afterward he was carried back again to
the sweet Vale of Avaion, where he still lives with the
blissful company of heroes.
And in various countries of Europe men tell marvel-
lous tales of the re-appearance of Charlemagne. It was
said by some that the great king returned to life at the
time of the Crusades, and, with the same martial vigor
as of old, led his hosts to mortal combat with the
Saracens. Some say that he has been seen in the
mountains of Untersberg, in company with Frederick
Barbarossa, waiting for the time when he shall return
to his kingdom. Others believe, that in Desenberg he
bides the coming of the millennial day. A German
poet1 says, "Charlemagne the great king lives still
1 Oebecke, in Karl Simrock's Kerlingisches Heldenbuch.
406 The After Word.
with his heroes. It is in Desenberg that he rests from
his conquests. The mountain dwarfs guard his dwell-
ing. There, in the broad halls, the heroes repose, over
powered with sleep, bound by an unseen hand. Around
them are their glittering arms, ready to be donned for
the battle. They breathe softly; they dream of war
and victory. And at a marble table in the middle of
the hall Charlemagne sits : his head reclines upon his
breast ; his countenance beams with the fire of youth ;
his hair and beard fall in long white waves to the
ground. Long time has he waited there with his com-
rades. Oftentimes the dawning of their new life
seems at hand, and a hum of joy runs through the
halls. Then all the warriors rise to their feet: they
seize their lances and their swords ; but suddenly their
joy is quenched, and again their eyes are closed in
slumber. Only the king remains awake for a while;
and he cries out, until the sound is echoed through
the mountains, 'Ye dwarfs who guard my dwelling,
what year is this?' The dwarfs answer; and the
shadows settle again upon his features. 'Sleep on,
comrades/ he says, 'the hour has not yet come/ With
a dull sound, each warrior falls prone upon the earth :
they sleep, and await the hour when the spell shall be
broken. The king, with his long white beard, and hia
flowing hair, and his countenance glowing with youtb
iita again at the marble table."
CENTRAL CIRCULATION
CHILDREN'S ROOM
NOTE
Norz I. Page 8.
"THEN they saw Karl himself, the Iron King, crested witb
helmet, his arms protected with iron bracelets, an iron hao-
berk sheltering his iron chest and his huge shoulders, in his left
hand a lance of iron lifted upright, for his right hand was always
stretched toward his unconquered sword. His knees even, which
are generally left bare of mail, were covered with plates of iron.
What shall I say of his leggings, which, with the whole army, were
wont to be of iron? In his shield there was naught but iron; and
even his horse, in color and spirit, was of iron. All those who
went before him, all who marched by his side, all who followed
him, imitated his costume as far as possible. Iron filled the fields
and the streets ; the sun's rays fell upon naught but iron : so that
the people of Pavia, more glact by terror than by the iron itself,
fell down before the glact iron. ' O iron 1 Alas, iron ! * such was
the confused clamor which filled the city. Otker saw all these
wonders at a glance, and said to Desier, ' Behold that which tho«
kast so m-ich wished to see ! ' And he fell down almost lifeless."
— From Des GesUs 4e Charlemagne, written by a monk of St. Gall,
about the end of the ninth century. Quoted by J. J. Ampere, ia
his Histeire L&tttr*ire de la France av&nt le xii*** SticU.
NOTE 2« Page 30,
TKX legend of Milon and the Princess Bertha and of the boy-
of Roland is probably of Italian origin. It is related is. ft
4oS Notes.
very old collection of romances, entitled Re*li Jtt Frmnci^ and in a
little poem of the sixteenth century, called Innameramtnte di Mi-
Une JAnglantt. It is the subject, also, of two Spanish romances
ef the sixteenth century. Another story of Roland's parentage
and boyhood, very different in all its essentials, is given in aa
sld French metrical romance of Charlemagne, written by Girard
d' Amiens, The scene between Roland and Charlemagne at the
banquet table, as related in this chapter, is adapted from a poem
by Uhiaad, in Karl Simrock's Kerlingisches Heldenbuch*
NOTE 3. Page 32.
TMB story of Charlemagne's entry into Rome is probably
authentic. It is given here nearly as related by Eginhard. in his
Vit* Cartli Magni. — Se* GUIZOT'S History ef Fr*nct, L 222, and
JAMES'S Hi$t*ry 9f Ch&rUmmgne> 1 50,
NOTR 4. Page 41.
CHARLEMAGNE'S wars with the Saxons are subjects of history
rather than of legend. I have given this brief account of one of
his campaigns across the Rhine, in order to acquaint you with one
of the most romantic episodes in the real history of the great
emperor. " We cannot be surprised," says Ludlow, " that French
legend should have fastened upon the personage of Charlemagne,
It is difficult to read without wonder the bare enumeration of hit
achievements, — how by him or by his lieutenants, the Frankisfe
sway was carried to the Weser, the Elbe, and the Oder, the Danube,
the Adige, the Po, and the Ebro ; how the Irminsul was thrown
down in German forests ; how the Pope crowned him, and the Emirs
of Spain became his vassals, and the distant Khalifs assured him
of their friendship.'5
The idol Irminsui was probably a statue, raised, originally in
honor of Arminius, near the spot where he defeated the Roman
legions under Germanicus, in A.D. 15. It was long regarded by
Notes. 409
the Germans with religious veneration. " The Temple of Irminsul
was spacious, elaborate, and magnificent The image was raised
open a marble column. ... Its right hand held a banner, in which
a red rose was conspicuous : its left presented a balance. The
crest of its helmet was a cock. On its breast was engraven a bear ;
tad the shield depending from its shoulders exhibited a lion in a
field full of flowers." — SHARON TURNER'S History of the Angle*
&ur«*j, i. 224.
NOTE 5. Page 46.
THE story of the Knight of the Swan was a very popular Jtegend,
and was related with many variations of incident, time, and place.
Its hero is designated variously as Lohengrin, Elias Grail, Gerard
Swan, Helias, and Salvius Brabo. Of all these versions, that of
Lohengrin is by far the most beautiful. — See BARING-GOULD'S
Myths of the Middle Age*.
NOTE 6. Page 57.
IT is worthy of note, that the children of Charlemagne men-
tioned in the legends are quite different in name and character
from those known in history, In the legends we read of Chariot,
Louis, Lothaire, Gobart, Belissent, and Emma : in history we have
recorded the names of Pepin, Charles, Rotruda, Adelais, Bertha
Carloman, Louis, Gisla, Hildegarde, Theoderada, Hiltruda, and
Rothaida. Only one, Louis, belongs to both legend and history.
The names of the twelve peers vary constantly in the different
romances. In the Chanson de Roland, they are Roland, Oliver,
Gerin, Gerer, Josse, Berenger, Jastor, Anseis, Gerard, Gaifer, and
Turpin. In Fierabras, they are Roland, Oliver, Thierry, Geoffrey
or Godfrey, Namon, Ogier, Richard, Berard, Gillimer, Aubri, Basin,
and Guy of Bourgogne.
NOTE 7. Page 8a
OGIER the Dane was probably a real historical personage, yet
we know almost nothing of the true story of his life and exploits-
He is mentioned by the Monk of St Gall under the name of Otker;
and the author of the so-called Chronicle of Turpin, after alluding
to his heroism in the wars of Charlemagne, says, " Even unto this
day, men sing of the warrior who accomplished so many wonders."
There are but few of the French romances in which the name ot
Ogier does not occur. His earlier life is the subject of a very old
poem, entitled Les Enfances d^QgUr, the date of whose composi-
tion is unknown. The story of his exploits in Italy, and of his later
difficulties with Charlemagne, as related in the present volume, has
been derived mainly from a long poem written by one Raimbert,
a minstrel of the twelfth century. — Set GASTON PARIS, Histtir*
Pottique tie Charlemagne, p. 307. The later poets, in dealing with
romances of Ogier, have added many fanciful and extravagant
details not found in the earlier versions.
NOTE 8. Page 103.
I HAVE introduced this episode in order to acquaint you with
another French epic, The Song of the Lorrainers (Le Roman de*
Loherains). The story of Bego, a part of which is given here,
forms the third and finest division of the great poem, and was
written by Jehan de Flagy, a minstrel of the twelfth century.
" Les Loherains is in spirit rather a Teutonic than a French epic.
It was written, doubtless, by Germans who had adopted the French
nationality, and who could not forget that their ancestors had con-
quered the country which was their home. ... It is an epic of
feudal society, and as such deserves particular attention, as illus-
trating in a remarkable manner the institutions and customs of
feudalism." — HKNRI VAN LAUN, History of French Literature
L 149-
NOTE 9. Page 132.
THIS story is mainly derived from a poem, entitled Girart ik
F&HM, written by Bertrand de Bar-sar-Aube in the thirteenth ecn-
tery. la the original version, the reconciliation of Roland and
Notes. 4? i
Oliver is effected bj a cloud settling down between them, and as
angel bidding them cease their fighting. Victor Hugo has given &
modern and most beautiful version of this story in his Lt&nde de&
NOTE 10. Page 146.
THE tradition relating the flight of the four brothers o& tnc back
of Bayard is the origin of ** the famous signboard, which may h*
met with half over Europe, but is especially common in France, of
the four sons of Aymon astride on a long-backed charger." —
LUDLOW, Popular Epics of the Middle Ages,
NOTE u. Page 174.
NEXT to the romantic legends of Roland and Ogier the Dane,
none are more popular, or more widely known, than those of Rei-
nold. In France there have been several versions of these legends ;
the best being contained in a long poem, entitled Les Quatre Fils
d*Aymon, a modern edition of which was published at Reims, in
1861 In Germany the story of Reinold and his brothers is related
in a manuscript romance of the thirteenth century, and appears in
a modernized form in Die Haimonskinder, a poem published at
Leipzig in 1830. In Spain these legends were embodied, in the
sixteenth century, in a romance called Espejt de Caballerias (The
Mirror of Chivalry). From this last-named version, Lope de Vega
derived the materials for his play of Pobresa de Reyn&ldes. In
De* Quixote there is a humorous reference to our hero as " Rei-
aaldos de Montalvan." "There is every reason to believe," says
Ludlow, " that to this world-renowned legend we owe the scenerj
of one of Shakspeare's most charming masterpieces; and that
Jaques nor Touchstone would ever have moralized ia Arden, had
not the story of the Sons of Aymoe made of its forest another
* Broceliande ' of legendary loi e."
< 1 2, Notes*
NOTE 12. Page 191.
FOR the story of Roland's adventures it connection with the
Princess of Cathay, and of his exploits in the Far East and IB
Fairyland, we are indebted chiefly to the works of the Italian poets
of the fifteenth century, and more especially to the Orlando /#•
namorato of Boiardo. In order to harmonize the different parts
of my story, and to adapt it to my audience, I have found it neces-
sary, in this chapter and those which follow, to deviate frequently
from the original versions, while endeavoring to preserve the
essential parts of the narrative unchanged.
NOTE 13. Page 235.
THE name M Fata Morgana " is appb'ed to an optical illusion, 01
mirage, frequently seen in the Strait of Messina. "Objects on the
Sicilian shore are refracted and reflected upon the water in mid-
channel, presenting enlarged and duplicated images. Gigantic
figures of men and horses move over the picture, as similar images
in miniature are seen flitting across the white sheet of the camera-
obscura* The wonderful exhibition is of short duration." The
most prominent figures in ancient and modem Italian legends are
the Fate, fairy beings ruled by Demogorgon, and whose home is
in the Himalaya Mountains. One of these, called Fata Morgana,
is the personification of Fortune. In the romances of King Arthur
she is called Morgan le Fay.
NOTE 14. Page 254.
THE narrative of Roland's adventure with the ore is given in
Ariosto's Orlando Furies*. It is, of course, an imitation of the
old story of Perseus and Andromeda ; and it illustrates the manner
in which the great Italian poets mingled classical and Gothic fic-
tions, and formed from them "a magnificent and fanciful ara-
oesque," in which the natural and the beautiful are found side by
slide with the grotesque and the extravagant
413
NOTE 15. Page 318.
THK adventures of Roland with Sir Ferumbras, Sir Otuel, and
the Giant Ferragus, are related in certain English poems of the
fourteenth century, an analysis of which is given in Ellis's JSarfy
English Metrical Romances. These romances were doubtless all
derived originally from older French versions. They are not very
Interesting reading ; and I have not thought it necessary to do more
than merely mention the exploits which they relate.
NOTE 16. Page 348.
THK description of the land of Prester John is found in a curious
letter claiming to have been written by Prester John himself to
Manuel Commenus, Emperor of Constantinople about the year
1165. Similar letters were sent to other European monarchs, and
were turned into rhyme and sung all over Europe by minstrels
and trouveres. — Set BARING-GOULD'S Curious Myths of the
Middle Ages.
NOTE 17. Page 363.
IN this chapter I have ventured to give a somewhat literal ren-
dering of one of Uhland's beautiful and characteristic poems. See
Sim rock's Kerlingisches Heldenbuck. u This poem," says Gaston
Paris, " is admirable for its naivete" of expression, and for its vivid
rendering of the ancient poetical ideas concerning Charlemagne."
NOTE 1 8. Page 376.
"THE origin of this tale seems to lie in a legend of the eiegt
af Aqoileia by Attila, quoted by M. Ame'de'e Thierry, in his Histoire
dAttila, according to which the inhabitants of that town covered
their escape to the lagoons by leaving their walls manned with
statues in full armor in guise of sentinels." — See LuDiX>w's
of ike Middle Ajgu.
414 Motes *
NOTK 19. Page 394.
THE Karlamagw&s Saga relates, that, upon the occasion of the
birth of his son Louis, Charlemagne made a vow to visit the holy
sepulchre at Jerusalem. He afterward performed the pilgrimage^
and returned by way of Constantinople, where he assisted the king
of the Greeks in defending his country against the Saracens, The
Greek monarch, in the excess of his gratitude, offered to become
tne vassal of Charlemagne ; but the great king would accept only
of a few relics by way of recompense for his services. Among
these relics was the point of the spear which had pierced the side
of the Saviour; and this he had made into a sword-blade, which
he called Joyeuse. Hence, from that day, the battle cry of those
who followed his standard was, " Monjoie ! Monjoie ! "
NOTE 20. Page 400,
THE description of the battle of Roncevaux, which composes *.
part of the Chanson de Roland, is, without doubt, the finest of all
the legends which cluster around the name of Charlemagne. The
original poem — doubtless the song which Taillefer sang at the
battle of Hastings — is said to have been written, probably iui
the tenth century, by a minstrel named Turold. The story of this
battle is also related, with many changes of incident, in the so-
called Chronicle of Turpin. Eginhard, the only historian of that
period whose account can be considered authentic, says, that, is
the year 778, the rearguard of the French army was attacked by
the Basques while in the upper passes of the Pyrenees, ** There
took place a fight, in which the French were killed to a man. . , .
And Roland, prefect of the marches of Brittany, fell in this engage-
ment." Says M. Guizot, "The disaster of Roncevaux, and the
heroism of the warriors who perished there, became, in France, the
object of popular sympathy, and the favorite topic for the exercise
d£ the popular fancy. The Song of Roland^ a real Homeric posra
in its great beauty, and yet rude and simple as became its aaticmaJ
415
character, bears witness to the prolonged importance attained la
Europe by this incident in the history of Charlemagne."
NOTE 21. Page 402.
Translation, by Sir EDMUND HEAD, of a poem in the L&rv &
, a collection of Spanish ballads first published in i 550.
" In Paris, Lady Alda sits, Sir Roland's destined bride,
With her three hundred maidens to tend her at her side :
Alike their robes and sandals all, and the braid that binds their hail ;
And alike the meal in their lady's hall the whole three hundred share.
Around her, in her chair of state, they all their places hold :
A hundred weave the web of silk, and a hundred spin the gold ;
And a hundred touch their gentle lutes to soothe that lady's pain :
And she thinks on him that's far away, with the host of Charlemagne.
Lulled by the sound, she sleeps ; but soon she wakens with a scream ;
And, as her maidens gather round, she thus recounts her dream :
' I sat upon a desert shore, and from the mountain s«gh,
Right toward me, I seemed to see a gentle falcon fly ;
But close behind an eagle swooped, and struck that falcon down,
And with talons and beak he rent the bird as he cowered beneath my
The chief of her maidens smiled, and said, ' To me it dotb aot sc*ra
That the Lady Alda reads aright the boding of her dream.
I*hou art the falcon, and thy knight is the eagle in his pride
As he comes in triumph from the war, and claims thee as hi* bride,'
The maidens smiled ; but Alda sighed, siad gravely shook har head.
1 Full rich, ' quoth she, ' shall thy guerdon be, if thou the truth hart
•Tis morn i her letters, stained with blood, the truth too plainly toft
Hew, » the chase cf Roncevaux, Sir Roland fought asd fdL"
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